TOW All the Secrets
by Fielding
Summary: Seems everyone has something to hide.
1. Intro

Monica couldn't believe it had come to this

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Author's note: Takes place in season 7, after episode 703 but before 704. Imagine that episodes 625 (the proposal) through 703 (Phoebe's cookies) happened one right after the other in the last half of May. This story, therefore, takes place in the imaginary "Friends" summer of 2000. Phoebe is living with Chandler and Monica, Rachel is living with Joey. Rachel has not hired Tag.

And a huge thanks to Jjaks. I can't begin to give him enough credit for his help with this story.

Monica couldn't believe it had come to this. He'd left.

She sat heavily on her bed, tears flooding her eyes, staring blearily at the closed door. She looked around her room, their room, pieces of their lives together sitting on the night stands, nailed to the walls, tucked in corners. His alarm clock sat next to her hand lotion. His dirty tennis shoes brushed against her beach sandals. She didn't bother turning around, but she knew that behind her, perched under the lamp on his side of the bed, was a framed picture of them.

It hadn't been easy to make this place belong to both of them. It had been solid Monica territory when he had moved in, despite years of living with Rachel. She hated to forfeit her space. At first she'd made small concessions. Closet space. A drawer in the bathroom and a shelf in the medicine cabinet. A magazine rack by the couch. His chair.

But before long he had crept into every part of her daily life. He'd bought a new stereo, and often left his favorite CDs on the coffee table. He'd taken over an entire bedroom closet. One day she had come home to find her bags of expensive gourmet pasta pushed behind boxes of instant macaroni and cheese in the kitchen.

And now the two lives were inseparable. Even if she wanted to, she doubted she could pack him up and kick him out and manage to get rid of everything that was his. The lines were too blurred. Something would always be left behind. A sweatshirt or a CD. And if she kicked him out and packed up his stuff, he'd manage to take something of hers with him. Even if she was careful. He'd pick up the wrong pair of socks or one of her novels. They were linked by nearly everything, every item, every object in their home.

She wondered when they had reached this point, when there was no turning back.

They had become engaged nearly two months ago. That had been the most difficult and the most wonderful time of her life. She had never felt so terrified, so uncertain, and so absolutely confident in her future at once. She thought now that perhaps Richard's intrusion in their lives then had been a good thing. It had forced them to turn toward each other so forcefully that not a doubt had been left in her mind that he was it. He was the one. Not a doubt.

But their lives had become impossibly entwined even before his proposal. That came from years of friendship, from years of seeing him every day. He knew all about her proudest moments and her greatest shames, because he had been there, firsthand, for most of them. He had been with her to celebrate. Or he had stayed behind to cry with her. And there had always been a lot of laughter, even in her darkest moments.

Her darkest moments. He knew all about those. Too bad the sharing hadn't been mutual. She hadn't known of his dark times, times that she couldn't imagine enduring, times that made her own bad memories seem insignificant. She wondered how he had managed to come so far in his life with those dark memories weighing him down. She wondered how he had managed to keep it all from her.

And she wondered now how they had arrived at this point, with her sitting in their room, surrounded by their life, alone.

Monica wiped angrily at the tears that had started running down her face and pushed herself off of the bed. She was being overly dramatic. What was she going to do next? Look through old photo albums and love letters? It wasn't as though he had moved out. It wasn't as though they had broken up. Not yet. This was still their home and their life together. Chandler would be back.


	2. The Invitation

Rachel rolled over in bed, ducking her head into the pillow as her closed eyes fell into an unfamiliar patch of morning sunlight

Rachel rolled over in bed, ducking her head into the pillow as her closed eyes fell into an unfamiliar patch of morning sunlight. She woke up slowly. She hadn't forgotten where she was. She didn't feel the usual disorientation from waking in a strange bed, opening her eyes to a strange room. She stayed lying on her side, staring out the window. They'd left the blinds open all night.

It had been two weeks since Chandler had proposed, and everyone had seen it coming, but Rachel still couldn't believe they were engaged. Over the past six years, everyone in her close group of friends had grown so comfortable in their well-established roles. Even when Monica and Chandler had coupled off, not a lot had changed. She had barely noticed the closeness, the intimacy, growing between them. She wondered if that was how the others had felt about her and Ross.

But everything had been different then. They'd been so much younger. She could see that now. It wasn't so much a matter of maturity; it was expectations. Monica and Chandler hadn't just grown up. It was more that they simply had a better idea of who they were and what they wanted. What they expected. And as she lay in bed, staring out the window, Rachel wondered what she expected.

She was grateful when her thoughts, which were about to take a sour turn, were interrupted by a sleepy grunt from behind her. She didn't turn toward the sound, but accepted the arm that wrapped itself around her chest.

"Morning," Ross mumbled into her back.

"Mmm, morning. What time is it?"

"Who cares? It's Saturday."

"I know. But if I don't get back before Joey wakes up, I'll never hear the end of it." She didn't make any move to get out of bed.

"So he thinks you got some action. What's the big deal?" Ross asked, pulling her closer to him and kissing her neck.

"He'll want details. He'll bug me until I tell him how good the sex was."

"And," Ross started.

"You're not going to ask me how good you were. I think I made it pretty obvious how good you were."

"I think the neighbors know how good I am," Ross said. "In fact, if Monica and Chandler left their windows open, they probably know how good I am."

Rachel rolled onto her back and glanced sideways at Ross. His eyes were closed and his fingers played lightly across her stomach. She kissed him once on the mouth then pushed his hand away and sat up, pulling a blanket at the end of the bed around her. Ross opened his eyes.

"No, don't go yet," he said, his fingers sliding around her forearm. "Come on, stay a little longer?"

"Ross, I wasn't even supposed to spend the night," she said, standing up and picking up clothes that were scattered around the room. "It was just supposed to be a few hours of fun." She didn't add what she was thinking. He took care of that.

"I know, no attachment, just sex." They both knew it wouldn't be that easy. Already she'd spent the night. One rule broken.

"That's right," Rachel said firmly. She conceded a glance to him then ducked into the bathroom to put on her clothes. Ross collapsed back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, at the dark water stains from a leak that must have occurred years ago. He'd never noticed the stains before, but in the bright sunlight, they were obvious.

Rachel came back out a few minutes later, the skirt and tank top she'd worn the day before wrinkled from a night on his floor. But she looked stunning, he thought. She smiled at him.

"Well, that was fun," she said, sitting on his side of the bed. "Thank you."

Ross nodded. "You're right about these fingers," he said, splaying his hands out in front of them. "They're near magical, aren't they?"

"Mmmm, yes they are." Rachel closed her eyes and sighed.

"Did I ever tell you what my piano teacher said about my fingers? In the sixth grade? She said I could've been a pro with these fingers." Rachel laughed.

"Yes, you told me. But I'd rather not think about 12-year-old Ross with those fingers. Not after what they did last night."

Ross smiled sheepishly at her and they sat in a moment of comfortable silence.

"I've really got to get going," Rachel said suddenly, glancing at Ross's alarm clock. It was a little after 8. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, of course," he said. "And thanks. I had fun too."

Rachel smiled and left.

+++++

When Rachel showed up at Monica and Chandler's a few hours later, she was surprised to find them lounging with Phoebe in the kitchen over a late breakfast. It wasn't like Monica to sleep in.

"Guess we weren't the only ones who had a late night," Monica said to Chandler, as Rachel sat at the table and helped herself to a plate of pancakes.

"Oh, you're finally having sex again?" Phoebe asked. "Good for you."

Rachel laughed. "You make it sound like a conscious decision, Phoebs. Like I decided to rediscover my virginity. But actually, no, I'm pathetic. I just got caught up in the book I was reading and didn't get to sleep until like 3 or 4." She'd already come up with her excuse, so it hardly felt like lying.

"Well, reading is good, too," Chandler said, patting her hand. "Sometimes, you know, a good book can be better than sex."

"Yeah, especially the kind that Rachel reads," Phoebe said.

Everyone laughed but Rachel, who ignored them and flooded her plate of pancakes with syrup.

"So, what are you all up to today?" she asked.

"I'm watching the game over at Ross's," Chandler said.

"What game?" Phoebe asked.

"No idea," Chandler said. "It's spring, so, what, tetherball?"

"Oooh, I was the tetherball champion in the third grade," Monica said.

"Is that even a televised sport?" Rachel asked. "It's probably a baseball game today."

"Yeah, sure, could be," Chandler said. "I don't know. Does it really matter? Basically we're just going to drink beer and watch TV. What about you guys?"

"Well, let's see, it's May 31st, that's the last day of the month, so of course Monica's sorting the mail and paying bills," Phoebe said.

"I can answer for myself," Monica said indignantly.

Rachel offered her a sly smile. "OK, Mon, what are you doing today?"

Monica glared at her then stood up and started clearing the dishes without answering the question.

"What about you, Rach? Any plans?" Chandler asked, smiling as he handed Monica his plate.

"Eh, not really. Maybe I'll just hang out here today. Watching Monica be productive makes me feel useful."

"Oh, oh, I know what you can do," Phoebe said. "You can help me pick out a turtle."

"A turtle? You're bringing it here? What are you gonna do with a turtle, Phoebe?" Monica asked, trying to keep the edge of panic out of her voice. Chandler laughed and joined her at the sink, giving her a quick hug to calm her down then grabbing a towel to help dry dishes.

"I think what Monica's trying to say, Phoebe, is that there's no way in hell you're bringing a turtle into her home," he said.

"What's up with people acting like they know what I'm thinking today?" Monica demanded. "I do have a voice, you know."

Chandler patted her hand and said, "Of course you do, sweetie." Monica frowned at him and swatted his hand away.

"So I can get a turtle?" Phoebe asked.

"No way in hell."

+++++

When Chandler got home later that afternoon, he found Monica sitting at the kitchen table, even stacks of mail surrounding her, a checkbook and calculator at her side. She looked up and smiled at him.

"How was the game?"

"It was great. This one guy chopped a log in half in six seconds. Six seconds!"

"What were you watching?"

"Timber sports. You know, we really need to get the Nashville network." Chandler dropped his keys next to the phone. An envelope on the counter caught his attention.

"I love the lumberjack competitions. Did they do that thing where they race to climb a tree?" Monica asked, punching at the calculator with the end of a pencil.

"Huh? Oh, um, they cut down the trees," Chandler said absently. He picked up the open envelope and pulled out the card inside.

Monica put down her pencil and stared quizzically at him. "Yeah, I know how timber sports work. Did they have tag-team sawing?"

Chandler glanced up at her. "What? Oh, I don't know. Where'd this come from?" He held up the envelope.

Monica looked up again and squinted at the paper in his hand. She grinned at him. "It's a wedding invitation. Somehow it ended up in the junk mail. Good thing I always sort through the piles before throwing it all away."

"Yeah, good thing," Chandler muttered. He knew exactly how the envelope had ended up with the junk mail.

"So who's Eric, um, what was his last name again?"

"Kittredge. We used to call him Kit," Chandler said. "Why are you opening my mail anyway?"

Monica laughed. "Take a look at the envelope, smart guy. It's addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Chandler Bing. Usually I don't like it when people leave out the woman's name, but you know, that has kind of a nice ring to it."

Chandler didn't say anything. He nodded, touched Monica briefly on the shoulder as he crossed the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator.

"So this groom, who is he?" Monica asked. "How do you know each other?"

"High school," Chandler said simply, still digging around in the refrigerator.

"How'd he know we were engaged?" Monica asked. She couldn't recall Chandler calling any friends to tell them the news. As far as she knew, he hadn't even told his family yet.

"He doesn't," Chandler said, popping open a Snapple and leaning against the counter. "I think it's supposed to be a joke. I used to always say I'd never get married."

"Well then, Kit will be in for quite the surprise when we see him at the wedding."

"What?" Chandler said, choking briefly on his drink. "We, um, we can't go to the wedding. It's in two weeks. We should've RSVPed a long time ago. Right?"

"No," Monica said, turning back to her bills. "The invitation says to let them know by Monday. We could send it in today and be OK."

Behind her, Chandler looked desperate. He set his drink on the counter and swiped a hand across his mouth. A few moments passed before he spoke up again.

"I forgot," he announced. "I have plans that weekend."

"You do not," Monica said.

"How do you know?"

"Because you never have any plans. And if you did, they'd involve me or our friends, and I'd know about them."

She had a point. Chandler sighed loudly and closed his eyes, hunting for more excuses. Just as he started to try another one on her, Monica cut him off.

"Do you not want to go to the wedding?" Chandler nodded. "OK, if you don't want to go, we don't have to."

Chandler's face fell into a relaxed smile immediately, and he stepped over to Monica and kissed her before practically skipping out of the kitchen. He plopped onto the couch and picked up a magazine. Monica waited a few seconds then followed him, sliding next to him on the couch.

"Come on, let's go," she begged.

Chandler sighed and looked up at the clock. "Thirty seconds. That's pretty good, honey."

"It'll be fun," she said, ignoring his comment. "I can finally meet some of your friends."

"I have five friends, and you know all of them very well," Chandler argued.

"You know what I mean," she said, tucking a leg underneath her and turning so she could face him. "Your old friends. High school friends. Maybe this'll be like a high school reunion."

"There's a reason I didn't go to the real high school reunion," Chandler said. "I went to an all boys school, remember? It wasn't like I could gloat in front of all the girls who wouldn't date me back then."

"And what exactly would you have been gloating about?" Monica teased. "It's not like you had me to show off."

Chandler frowned at her, so she continued in a more appeasing tone. "Come on, I just want to meet some of your old friends, find out what you were like in high school. I feel like I don't know anything about your past."

"You know plenty about my past," he argued. "My God, isn't a cross-dressing father and a sex-addict mom enough for you? Or, or, couldn't we just look through my photo album again?"

"Chandler, your photo album is just sad. It's only half full, and it ends at your 10th birthday party."

"Ah yes, the big 1-0," Chandler said, his lips pulling into a thin smile. "Dad's date was my babysitter, who also happened to be a linebacker on the high school football team. Yeah, that was the year Mom decided we were better off not taking any more family pictures. Ever."

"You know all about what I was like in high school," Monica said, ignoring his last comment. "I mean, you've seen the live-action videos of the fattest prom ever. Now it's my turn to find out about you. Please, let's just go."

"You already sent in the RSVP, didn't you?" Chandler said, his eyes crinkling in suspicion. Monica looked shocked and offended for a moment, and then nodded.

"All right. Yes, I already sent it in," she said. "I'm sorry. I really didn't think you'd mind. And it sounds like fun. Besides, you said when you proposed to me that you'd do anything to make me happy, and this would make me very happy."

"How long are you going to hold that over me?"

"For as long as we're married."

"Thank God the divorce rate is like 60 percent," Chandler said under his breath. But then he sighed and pulled Monica into a hug, kissing the top of her head. "This is important to you, huh?"

"Yeah, it is."

"OK then," he said. "We can go."

Monica wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, settling her head into his chest.

"I promise, this'll be fun," she said, looking up at him and grinning. "We can make fun of her wedding dress and the reception decorations, which will probably be really tacky. I mean, it's at a rec center. How lame is that?"

"You sure you don't want to just go with Rachel?" Chandler asked, not entirely kidding. "You two can rip apart the whole bridal party. Might be more fun than meeting a bunch of my high school band friends."

"Are you kidding?" Monica asked, kissing him briefly on the lips and standing up. "I wouldn't miss band camp stories for the world."

+++++

Monica repeated her sentiment the next day to Rachel and Joey over lunch in their apartment.

"I just don't it get it," she said. "Why wouldn't he want to go to his friend's wedding?"

"I don't know, Monica. Maybe they weren't that close," Rachel said.

"They were close enough for him to get invited. Which means, closer than you and me." Monica smiled bitterly at her.

"Oh, come on, is it my fault we drifted apart?"

"Actually, yeah," Monica said. "I tried calling you, and writing you, and-"

"OK, never mind, it doesn't matter now," Rachel bristled. "Besides, would you really have wanted to see me leave some guy at the altar? It wasn't exactly one of my shining moments."

"Are you kidding? That would've been the best non-wedding ever."

"Yeah, even I'm a little mad I didn't get invited," Joey said, his words muffled over a bite of sandwich.

"Joey, I didn't even know you then."

"Look, back to Chandler," Monica said, interrupting Joey's reply. "Joey, do you know any reason why he wouldn't want to see his high school friends?"

"Honey, everyone has horrible stuff from high school they don't like talking about," Rachel said, answering for Joey.

"But he knows everything about me."

"Everything?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, uh, Mon, does he know about that time the cop came up to you on a Friday night in the park? He thought you were parking with a boy, but you were actually alone in the car, just you and a large pizza?"

"That happened?" Joey asked. Monica cringed and nodded. "Dude, that's sad."

"Or the time you thought Jamie Whitmore had asked you out, but he really just wanted to-"

"OK, OK, I get the idea, he doesn't know everything," Monica conceded.

"But he will," Joey said, laughing.

"Thanks, Rachel."

"Look, I'm just saying, from the little bit Chandler has told us about his teen years, it doesn't sound like there's a lot to brag about," Rachel said.

"You're right, I'll go easy on him at the wedding."

"God, no, that's not what I meant," Rachel said. "I mean, as long as you're there, get as much dirt as you can."

+++++

Alone in her apartment later that night, Rachel sat on Joey's recliner, phone in hand.

She really wanted it to have just been one night with Ross. She had been serious when she told him it was supposed to be just a few hours of fun. But barely 48 hours after their bonus night, she was about to suggest another round.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ross."

"Oh, hey. What's up?"

"Nothing," Rachel said. "What are you doing?"

"Just ironing a shirt for work tomorrow."

"Really? So, it's pretty hot, right?"

"The iron? Uh, yeah."

"Mmmm. And what're you doing now?"

"Spraying starch on it."

"So it's really stiff?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Oooh, I like it stiff. Do you like it stiff?"

"Not really."

"Too bad. I like it nice and stiff and hard."

"You like your shirts stiff and hard? Isn't that uncomfortable?"

"Not if you do it right."

Ross sighed. "Wanna come over?"

"I'll be right there."


	3. The Wedding

They were, of course, the first to arrive at the wedding

Standing alone in Monica's kitchen, a chocolate-streaked apron tied loosely around her waist, Rachel was trying to whistle a song to herself as she mixed a cake batter. She wasn't a particularly good whistler, and she kept missing the high notes.

"Maybe if you tried something other than 'The Star-Spangled Banner' you could get it." Rachel shrieked and jumped at the voice behind her then turned around to glare at Ross.

"God, don't do that to me," she said, and went back to stirring. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long." Ross looked around the kitchen and the rest of the empty apartment. "Where's Monica? I wanted to borrow a video from her."

"She and Chandler left for that wedding this morning," Rachel said. She picked up an egg and cracked it on the bowl, yelping as half of the shell fell in the chocolate mixture. She took a moment to pick out several large chunks of shell then shrugged and went back to mixing.

"Where's Phoebe?" Ross asked, noticing that her bedroom door was closed.

"She's working today."

"So, um, what are you doing here?"

Rachel reached into the bowl to fish out another piece of eggshell, flicked it into the sink and sucked the chocolate batter of her finger. "Baking. Monica said I could use her kitchen to brush up on my kitchen skills while she was gone."

"Monica let you into her kitchen? Nobody's allowed to use her kitchen without her supervision."

"Fine, you got me," Rachel said. "They shut the gas off in Joey's apartment again, so I sneaked in here after Monica and Chandler left for the wedding."

Ross walked over to her and picked up the empty box of cake mix sitting on the counter. "And you call this baking?"

"Hey, throw some chocolate chips in there and add a little coconut to the frosting, it's like a homemade cake," Rachel said, grabbing the box from him. "Besides, Joey won't know the difference. It's just cake."

"So, this is for Joey?"

"It's for whoever will eat it, but you know Joey will be over here as soon as he smells it baking." Rachel poured the batter into a long cake pan, slid it into the oven and set the timer. "So, cake in 45 minutes. What should I do now?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Rachel glanced at Ross.

"We could watch some TV," he suggested.

"Yeah, TV'd be great," Rachel said, untying her apron and heading toward the couch. Ross turned on the TV, then sat next to her. A scrambled channel showed up, and the room was filled with loud moans.

"Guess Chandler was watching the Spice channel again. Why doesn't he just pay extra for the cable?" Ross said, looking embarrassed as he fumbled to pick up the remote.

"Right about now I'm pretty grateful he doesn't," Rachel said as the moans grew louder.

Ross finally managed to grab the remote and pointed it at the TV to change the channel. It wouldn't work. He shook it a few times and banged it against the palm of his hand. "Damnit. Must be out of batteries."

Ross looked at Rachel, who was rubbing her hands against her thighs. She looked back up at him. "Um, one of us should probably, you know, get up and change the channel."

"Yeah, right," Ross said. Neither of them stood up. Rachel could hear Ross breathing heavily. Or was that the TV? She finally got up, walked quickly to the television and flicked it off. Then she turned and faced Ross, hands on her hips.

"You remember how I said we should just do it the one time?" Ross knew immediately what she meant.

"Uh huh."

"And then the second time, I said that was it? We'd just do it twice?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, forget that."

Ross shot off of the couch and sprinted to her. He tripped on a leg of the table and fell against her, pushing her against the TV cabinet and using one hand to balance them against the wall, the other to wrap around her waist. She kissed him furiously, both hands on his face. Rachel came up for air after a minute.

"OK, but it's just this one more time," she said, out of breath.

"OK," Ross said, leading her back to the couch and stripping off his shirt.

+++++

Neither Ross nor Rachel noticed when, 30 minutes later, Joey slipped in the front door and headed across the kitchen. He was so used to raiding the refrigerator that by habit he didn't make a sound. He had his face up to the glass door of the oven, the smell of baking cake drawing him in, before he noticed the loud moaning coming from the living room. Assuming it was Chandler and Monica, he tiptoed toward the couch, intending to catch an eyeful before streaking back out the door.

He did indeed catch an eyeful. Joey just barely managed to restrain a yelp when he saw Ross and Rachel, completely naked, on the couch. He threw a hand up to his mouth and bit hard on his thumb to stop from screaming, but ended up shrieking in pain anyway when he bit to hard. Fortunately for Joey, Ross and Rachel were making too much of their own noise to notice. He managed to back out of the apartment without catching their attention.

Joey stepped out into the hall, nodding slowly and grinning. So those were the breasts Chandler had been so impressed by a few years ago. Joey had to admit, Rachel looked hot having sex, even with Ross. And she'd even been the one on top. "Nice," he muttered to himself. Then he raced into his apartment. Phoebe was eating lunch at the counter.

"Oh my God. Phoebs, you'll never guess what I just saw."

"Ross and Rachel doing it?" Phoebe said. She took another bite of sandwich.

"How'd you know?"

"Yeah, I walked in on them about 10 minutes ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Joey demanded. "You've been here for, well, like 10 minutes already."

"I was getting around to it," Phoebe said.

"I can't believe those two are back at it," Joey said, scratching his head. "I thought they were way over."

"I wonder how long they've been at it."

"Well, from the looks of things, at least 15 or 20 minutes," Joey said.

"No, I mean, how long have they been hiding it from all of us? When did they first get back together?"

"Oh, yeah." Joey looked thoughtful then was struck with another realization. "Man, you know what this means? This means we've got another secret couple. I hate the secrets."

"You know what we need, Joey? You and I, we need a secret," Phoebe said. She stood up and paced around the living room.

"More secrets? The last thing we need is more secrets."

Phoebe ignored him. "So what's a good secret for us? Well, Monica and Chandler were sleeping together. Ross and Rachel are sleeping together. Oh, oh, I've got an idea!"

"But I don't want anymore secrets," Joey whined. Phoebe just leaned toward him and whispered in his ear.

"Good idea, huh?" Phoebe said, still whispering.

"Oh yeah," Joey whispered back at her.

"Something I've always wanted to do. We'd be so good at it," Phoebe said quietly.

"You know it, baby," Joey said. "Um, Phoebs, why are we still whispering? There's no one around."

"I don't know. It's a secret. Doesn't it seem like you should whisper secrets?"

"Ross and Rachel weren't exactly whispering," Joey said. "Come to think of it, Chandler and Monica didn't do a lot of whispering, either."

"Come on, let's get started," Phoebe said. She grabbed Joey's hand and pulled him into his bedroom.

+++++

Three hours and 150 miles from their friends, Chandler and Monica were, of course, the first to arrive at the wedding. The ceremony was to take place in a park, tucked into a clearing surrounded by tall trees. There were about two dozen neat rows of white folding chairs lined up on the crisp green grass.

"Let's sit here," Chandler said, tugging at Monica's hand as he squeezed into the last row of chairs. Monica grunted her disapproval at the seating choice, but followed him anyway. The ushers, who were smoking cigarettes at the top of the aisle, had told them they could sit wherever they wanted. Not even the groom had arrived.

"Hmmm, this is quaint," Monica said, slipping off her sunglasses to better evaluate the wedding scene. "But yellow roses? Couldn't they be a little more original?"

"I know!" Chandler said, humoring her.

"And rose petals down the aisle? Yeah, I think Martha Stewart did that _ in 1997!"

"It's downright embarrassing!"

"And what about those-"

"Uh, Mon? You know I'm not Rachel, right?" Monica looked like she had a lot more to say, but she stopped talking. Chandler kept his sunglasses on, and fiddled with Monica's left hand, twisting her engagement ring around her finger. Monica smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

"A little nervous?" she asked, slipping her hand out of his and adjusting her ring so the diamond was back on top. She kissed his cheek and ran a hand through his hair. "When was the last time you saw anyone from high school?"

"High school."

"Really? You don't keep touch with any of them?"

"Nope."

"How'd Kit know where to send the invitation?"

Chandler shrugged. He'd been wondering the same thing. The envelope had been sent to his old address but ended up in his new mailbox anyway.

"Well, this should be interesting, at least," Monica said, and craned her neck to look around the park. She could see a few guests coming up from cars on the street behind them. The wedding was set to start in 30 minutes. "You think you'll recognize any of your old friends?"

"To be honest, I don't even know if any of them will show up, I mean, other than Kit," Chandler said.

"You'd better hope he shows up," Monica said, laughing.

"I don't know, groom running out on the bride? I think that's the only wedding disaster we haven't seen yet."

"We haven't been to all that many weddings."

"Yeah, but it sure seems like a lot, doesn't it?"

Chandler joined Monica in assessing the guests as they slowly filled the white chairs. So far no one looked familiar, and Kit had yet to arrive. The wedding, it seemed, was going to be enormous. There were easily 250 chairs on the lawn, and every one of them was filling up. Chandler figured that with a crowd this size, he would never be recognized, especially as it had been more than 10 years since he saw any of these people.

He sat back into his chair, relaxing finally. Chandler took Monica's hand in his again and smiled at her.

+++++

The ceremony was mercifully short, although it started late _ a fact Monica took great pleasure in pointing out to Chandler by repeatedly turning his wrist over to point at his watch. Kit arrived right on time, but Chandler didn't recognize him until just before the ceremony started. He had grown a full beard and gained some weight, and he already had deep wrinkles around his eyes.

After the ceremony, the guests were ushered to the so-called rec center, which was a short hike along a path lined with yellow rose petals. As the wedding was taking place at a private golf course, the rec center, it turned out, was actually a 100-year-old ballroom. Monica seemed disappointed at the extravagant arrangements. She'd have almost nothing to complain to Rachel about.

"I can't believe they're not doing a receiving line," Monica whispered to Chandler as they stepped into the vast dining room. "That's so tacky." Chandler just nodded. He had been relieved to see the newly married couple whisked off for photos after the ceremony.

The reception also moved remarkably fast. Monica and Chandler had been seated at a table at the farthest end of the dining room, and so missed most of the festivities. When the band started playing and couples wandered onto the dance floor, she grabbed Chandler's hand and insisted he dance with her. So far the wedding had been a bust, as far as Monica was concerned. She had yet to meet any of his friends, and the reception itself was so spectacular, it made her own wedding plans seem positively cheap.

"I didn't know your friend was so rich," Monica said, leaning into Chandler's ear so he could hear her over the music. They were slow-dancing to a song she didn't recognize.

"Not a lot of poor boys go to prep school," Chandler said.

"Then why are we cutting corners on our wedding?"

"Because unlike you, I'd like to retire before I'm 90," Chandler said, pulling Monica closer to him and kissing her forehead. They danced quietly for the rest of the song, parting briefly to applaud with everyone else when it was over. The next song started up again right away, and Chandler moved to pull Monica back toward him when he heard someone shout his name.

"Bing! Hey, Bing! Bing! What the hell you doing here?"

Chandler turned around to see a short, gaunt-faced man nearly running across the dance floor in his direction. He ran straight up to Chandler and wrapped both stringy arms around his neck, hugging him gruffly and patting him on the back with both palms.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," the man said, still clinging to Chandler. "It's so good to see you, man." He finally pulled back, gripping Chandler on both arms and taking a look at him.

"Vic?" Chandler asked, squinting in the flashing disco lights at the man in front of him.

"Of course." Vic looked Chandler up and down then ran one hand through his own receding hair. "Guess I look a little different. Losing the hair, growing the belly, but we're old men now, you know? So how you been?"

"Um, fine, fine. It's good to see you too." Chandler took a step back from the man, slipping out of his grip, and knocked into Monica.

"Ow," she said, as Chandler stepped on her foot.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," he said, turning quickly away from Vic. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah." Monica waited for Chandler to introduce her, and then finally shot out her hand toward the newcomer. "Hi. I'm Monica."

Vic grabbed her hand eagerly and pumped her arm up and down a few times. "Good to meet you. So let me guess, you're like a model-friend of Chandler's and he paid you to come with him today? Or no, he wouldn't even have any friends this good looking, so, what, he just found you on the street?"

"She's not a hooker," Chandler said. "Monica's my fiancée."

"You're shitting me," Vic said. "How the hell'd you pull that off? And we all thought you were gay."

Chandler laughed bitterly and started to respond, but a couple dancing nearby bumped him and glared in their direction. Chandler touched Monica's shoulder and led the three of them off the dance floor to a nearby table.

"So what the hell have you been up to?" Vic asked once they had sat down. He picked up a glass of champagne from the setting in front of him. Chandler watched him finish the drink in one swig before answering.

"Well, um, I'm living in New York. Let's see, I have a job that I hate and a woman that I love. Life couldn't be better."

"So when's the big day?" Vic asked, picking up a second glass of champagne from a waiter walking by. Chandler gave him a confused stare. Monica laughed.

"Next May," she said.

"Tell me, Monica, what in God's good name do you see in this guy?" Vic asked her, finishing the second drink and swatting at Chandler's shoulder. Monica smiled and grabbed Chandler's hand, noticing that it was cold and clammy. She had been about to make a joke, but suddenly realized he was nervous, practically shaking with anxiety, in fact.

"Chandler is amazing," she said, beaming at him and kissing his cheek. "He's cute and funny and sweet. He treats me like a princess."

Vic looked her up and down, finishing on her breasts, and smiled so big she thought she could count all his teeth. "Well, he should."

Chandler was leaning back in his chair and didn't seem to be following their conversation. The way his eyes were darting around the expansive ballroom, it almost looked as though he were searching for an escape, or at least some excuse to leave the table. Monica's first instinct was to help him out. But Vic was the first person to show up who knew Chandler, and Monica had him cornered. She wasn't going to give up this situation so fast.

"So, do you guys know each other from high school?" Chandler just nodded and frowned, but Vic offered her another one of his toothy grins.

"Oh yeah, we go way back," he said.

"Great. Finally someone can tell me some stories about Chandler from high school," Monica said. Chandler threw her one more anxious look, and then stood up suddenly.

"You look cold, sweetie. Are you cold? You're cold. I'm gonna get your jacket," he said to Monica. "Excuse me for a minute."

Monica stared after him, surprised at his abrupt departure, but Vic quickly switched into Chandler's seat, snatching a third glass of champagne from a passing waiter, and started chatting to her.

+++++

Monica caught up to Chandler almost 45 minutes later. He was standing alone at the edge of the dance floor near an exit, the perfect image of a wallflower. He was staring over the dancers, his hands buried deep in his pockets and mouth clamped shut. Monica doubted he was paying any attention to the people around him.

"Hey," she said softly, touching his arm. He jumped and didn't bother smiling at her.

"You ready to go?" he asked. Monica nodded, and he handed over her jacket. "Didn't you say I was cold about an hour ago?"

Chandler looked as though she had interrupted his thoughts, but quickly recovered. "Sorry about that. That coat check guy, man, what a talker. Would not shut up."

"Sure."

They were at the door leading to the lobby when another voice called to them.

"Hey, Chandler." This voice was much softer, but Chandler, unnerved from his previous encounter with an old friend, stopped in his tracks and looked as though he was going to refuse to face this voice. Finally he turned around.

"Kit, hey," Chandler said. Both men looked dazed as they stared at one another unsmiling. Chandler broke the silence. "So, um, congratulations. It's pretty incredible, you married and all."

"Yeah, it is."

"Yeah, well, um." Monica cleared her throat. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, this is my fiancée, Monica."

"Congratulations. We're very happy for you," Monica said, shaking Kit's hand.

"Thanks. Um, same to you guys." Monica stepped back, and Chandler and Kit shuffled on their feet for a few more seconds of awkward silence. "So, um, no offense, but I wasn't really expecting to see you here."

"Neither was I," Chandler said, glaring at Monica. "Actually, I was kinda surprised to be invited," he said to Kit. "But, you know, Monica didn't believe I had any friends in high school, so, here we are."

Kit gave in to a short laugh. "Well, actually, you got the invite for the same reason. Becky insisted I must have more friends than the four people we hang out with every day."

"How'd you know we were engaged?" Monica asked.

"Um, I didn't," Kit said, looking confused.

"The invitation was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Chandler Bing. Monica loved it," Chandler clarified for him.

"Oh," Kit said. "Yeah, Becky did all the invitations, and I must've had you in my address book under Mrs. Chandler Bing. Man, we used to really give you a hard time about that name, didn't we?"

Chandler laughed, for the first time that night, Monica suspected. Kit finally gave them both a warm smile.

"Hey, look, thanks for coming," he said, reaching out a hand to Chandler. Chandler shook it and smiled back at him.

"Thanks for having us," he said, and wrapped his free arm around Monica's waist. "I'm glad we came."

+++++

"So, that was fun," Monica said as they drove back home the next afternoon.

"Yeah it was," Chandler said, flashing her a sexy smile and squeezing her thigh. Monica laughed.

"Yeah, that too, but I meant the wedding. It wasn't so bad, was it?" Chandler's smile disappeared.

"Oh, that," he said. "No, it was fine. A little strange to see the old friends, but OK."

"You didn't exactly hang out with Vic very long," Monica said. Chandler didn't say anything.

This was the first time they had discussed the wedding since leaving the reception the night before. Monica had wanted to ask him why he avoided Vic, but Chandler had seemed so tense and quiet, so unlike his usual self, that she had felt almost guilty about dragging him to the wedding. She wanted him to enjoy the rest of their weekend together, so she'd avoided talking about the wedding until now.

"He seems pretty nice," she said, keeping her voice casual and light. "Well, maybe not nice exactly. In fact, he was kind of leering at me the whole time we were talking. But he seemed like a lot of fun. Sounds like you guys actually had some wild times in high school. You're not as big a dork as we thought."

Chandler looked up in alarm. "What do you mean?"

"You know, he told me about the parties and the girls," Monica said. Chandler looked confused. "Oh, and the time you guys broke into the 7-Eleven just for the hot dogs. Now that sounds more like the high school I remember."

Chandler gave her a shallow laugh. Vic had been lying. "Yeah, we were pretty crazy."

"Not exactly what I was expecting from a bunch of band geeks," Monica said, joining his laughter, which she took as a positive sign. She took a deep breath and decided to forge through with the rest of what she had to tell him.

"Anyway, it's too bad you couldn't hang out with him." Monica flicked her eyes in his direction. "But he'll be in New York in a couple of weeks, and I told him he should stop by, maybe stay with us for a day or two."

Chandler turned abruptly to look at her, moving the steering wheel with his motion. The car swerved toward the emergency lane, and Chandler quickly recovered before turning back to Monica.

"Why the hell did you do that?" he asked, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

"He asked," Monica said. "What's the big deal? He's an old friend and he just wants to spend some time with you, talk about old times. I didn't think you'd mind." That wasn't true. Monica had seen this coming.

She knew she was probably overstepping her place now, that she had no right to force Chandler to spend time with Vic. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if he called Vic and cancelled the visit, or arranged to be out of town for the days he would be around. But she couldn't understand why Chandler was avoiding an old friend. If there was something bothering him, or they had a bad history together, Monica wanted him to resolve it. Or at least tell her about it.

Chandler still hadn't responded to her. He was studying the road ahead, and Monica figured he was angry with her. It was going to be a long drive back to the city.

"He asked if he could visit?" Chandler asked after a few minutes. Monica was surprised to hear his voice. Maybe he wasn't mad.

"Yes. It seemed like he really wanted to see you." Chandler considered her words for a minute, and then sighed.

"OK. I guess that's OK." It was the least he could do for an old friend.

"Are you sure?" Monica asked. "Because, you know, we could call him up and ask him not to come. Or just stop answering our phone for the next few weeks."

Chandler forced a smile and reached over to take one of her hands. "No, it's fine," he said. "Don't worry about it."


	4. The Guest

Standing alone in Monica's kitchen, a chocolate-streaked apron tied loosely around her waist, Rachel was trying to whistle a s

Ross screamed like a girl when he stepped into the cold shower. When was he going to remember to check the water temperature first? He swatted away the showerhead so it wasn't splashing down in his face and cranked up the warm water. Rachel was probably laughing in his bedroom right now.

They were supposed to have dinner at Monica and Chandler's tonight. An old friend of Chandler's was in town, and Monica apparently was afraid that the evening would be awkward with just the three of them. Ross understood. And like everyone else, he was curious to meet someone from Chandler's past.

But before dinner, Rachel and Ross had enjoyed another afternoon of "just sex." This time it had started on the phone. Rachel had called to ask an innocent question about dinosaurs, but five minutes into the conversation they'd resorted to flagrant phone sex, and two minutes after that she'd been at his door. Come to think of it, Ross couldn't remember what the question had been, or when Rachel had taken an interest in dinosaurs.

They never planned their encounters. OK, Ross admitted that this afternoon might have been intentional on Rachel's part. But usually, the sex just sort of happened. After that first bonus night, it had been easy to try a second night, and then a third. And now they were on their sixth. Their so-called "bonus night" had turned into more of a "bonus month," and with no end in sight.

Not that Ross was complaining. But it was a lot harder than he thought it would be to keep control over his feelings for Rachel. He knew he should probably confide this to her, but he also didn't want to push her away. And he knew that's what would happen if she found out the truth. Or at least if he told her the truth, because he suspected that she already knew where he stood.

They weren't getting back together. Rachel insisted on this, and Ross reluctantly agreed. They had decided that now wasn't the time. Hell, their divorce had only gone through a few months ago.

But divorces aside, Ross figured that Monica and Chandler's engagement was the main thing holding Rachel back right now. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was upset that they were getting married. Sure, she was happy, even thrilled, for them. But she didn't have anyone of her own, and that hurt her. And the last thing she wanted to do was get back together with Ross just because she craved a relationship, any relationship. Unfortunately, Ross had to agree with her motivations. At least for now.

Still, that didn't stop him from answering a booty call when it came knocking.

Rachel was zipping up the back of her skirt when Ross ducked out of the shower a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist and steam seeping out of the bathroom behind him.

"You're already dressed?" His face fell with disappointment. "I thought you were gonna shower next."

"I'm going to run back to my place and shower," Rachel said, strapping on her sandals. She stood up and ran her hands over her skirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Yeah, I guess you'd better hurry. Monica's expecting us, um," Ross leaned over to look at the alarm clock next to his bed, "um, an hour ago?"

"Damnit. I've got to get out of here." Rachel jumped up from the bed and stopped in front of Ross, who was scuffing his feet on the carpet, water from his hair dripping down the side of his face and the back of his neck. Rachel was tempted to pull him to her and kiss him goodbye, hell, to lick the water off of his neck, but she settled for a peck on his cheek and a wave. "I'll see you in a few minutes, OK?"

"Yeah, OK. I'll see you there." Ross sat heavily on his bed and stayed there for a few minutes after he heard Rachel shut the front door.

He wasn't looking forward to this evening. Ross knew all about Chandler's friend. In fact, he'd been surprised to hear that Chandler had agreed to let him visit. And Ross fully understood why things were awkward between them. He definitely wasn't eager to play mediator tonight. But at least everyone else would be there too.

Ross sighed and stood up, pulling on the boxers and jeans he'd been wearing earlier. He didn't bother making the bed that he and Rachel had so eagerly torn apart just a few hours ago. He hoped it would still smell like her when he went to sleep tonight.

+++++

Rachel was breathless when she got back to her place, having sprinted across the street. She planned to take a two-minute shower and change clothes, then race over to Monica and Chandler's. She darted into the bathroom and looked around for her towel _ Joey was always stealing it because his were wet. She wasn't surprised to find it missing.

She ran across the living room and pushed open Joey's door. And then she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Rachel said to the naked woman lying facedown on Joey's bed. The woman had risen up on her elbows when she heard the door squeak open.

"Rachel?"

"Phoebe?"

"What time is it?" Phoebe looked dazedly around the room. And then it dawned on her that she was naked, and Rachel was still standing in the doorway. Phoebe grabbed a blanket and pulled it over her body, then rolled onto her back.

"Um, Phoebs, what are you doing here?"

"Napping."

"Of course," Rachel said slowly. "In Joey's room?"

"Yeah, there was too much noise across the hall."

"And you're naked because…"

"You know I always nap naked."

"You know, I didn't know that," Rachel said.

"Wow, it's late," Phoebe said, picking up her watch, which was lying next to Joey's bed. "We'd better get over to Monica's. She's freaking out about Chandler's friend." Phoebe stood up, the blanket wrapped around her body, and started picking up her clothes.

"Right," Rachel said, and then managed to shake herself from the shock of the situation. She spotted her towel balled up in a corner, thankfully near the door, and grabbed it. "I'm just gonna take a quick shower. Tell Monica I'll be there in a few minutes."

"OK." Phoebe, as usual, seemed totally unaffected by the oddness of the scene. Rachel took one last look around Joey's room, half expecting to see her roommate huddled naked in some corner, trying to hide, and then backed out, shaking her head.

+++++

Thirty minutes later, Rachel was the last to arrive at Monica and Chandler's place. Everyone else was already seated around the kitchen table, steaming bowls of food making the rounds. Rachel apologized and took a seat between Phoebe and Joey.

"Rachel, this is Vic. Vic, Rachel," Monica said, pointing with a spoon toward the man seated across from Rachel. Rachel smiled at him then took a plate of asparagus from Phoebe.

Vic had a big smile, she could see, but otherwise small features _ tiny black eyes that were sunk in his face, ears that almost disappeared behind his sideburns. He wasn't at all attractive, but he acted as though he didn't know it, or at least didn't care. He seemed completely at ease at the table, surrounded by mostly strangers and one old friend who, according to Monica, would prefer he wasn't there.

Speaking of Chandler, Rachel didn't think she'd ever seen him so quiet. He had already filled his plate, and now sat at Monica's side near the head of the table, absently pushing the pile of rice on his plate into a neat mountain.

Rachel apparently had interrupted a story Vic was telling when she arrived, because Joey asked him to finish what he was saying.

"Oh, right," Vic said, pausing to finish chewing the food in his mouth and swallowing it with a swig of wine. "So Chandler and this girl, um, what was her name?"

Chandler shrugged and didn't look up from his plate. "I have no idea."

"Anyway, they head back to her parents' bedroom, and they're rolling around, clothes are everywhere, he's got her shirt off and his pants off, and all of a sudden he gets kinda sick."

"Dude, bad timing," Joey groaned.

"Uh huh," Vic said, flashing his grin. "So he gets up and he's like really sick now, so he runs over to this door, which he assumes is the bathroom, and he knows he's not gonna make it to the toilet, so he just throws the door open and pukes all over the place."

"That's sick," Rachel said, putting down the forkful of food that was on the way to her mouth.

"Oh yeah, but it gets worse," Vic said. "The girl starts freaking out, like screaming. Turns out Chandler puked in her mom's closet. Got her shoes and her clothes, everything. She had to buy a whole new wardrobe, right, man?"

Chandler glanced up at Vic, paused to glare at him, then went back to his rice pile.

"Chandler, I can't believe all the crazy things you did in high school," Phoebe said.

"Yeah, you never told me you got arrested," Joey said.

"Three times!" Phoebe finished.

"And you had sex with a stripper at your 16th birthday party?" Joey said, beaming with pride.

"And his 17th," Phoebe said.

"And his 18th," Monica added flatly.

"Nice," Joey said.

"Wait a minute. You told me you were a 20-year-old virgin," Rachel said, hiking her eyebrows in suspicion.

"Nineteen. I had sex when I was 19," Chandler muttered.

"What was that?" Rachel asked.

"Never mind," Chandler said loudly. "Apparently I drank my way through high school. Is it any wonder I can't remember any of this happening?" Chandler stood up suddenly, kicking his chair back, and carried his full plate to the kitchen sink.

He was furious at Vic for telling these stories. He couldn't understand why his friend saw the need to lie so vigorously. Or at all, for that matter. His friends would have been perfectly sated with the fact that he had been a band nerd, that they had stayed in most weekend nights to play card games, maybe bribing someone's older brother to buy them cheap beer if they were feeling particularly rambunctious.

It wasn't so much that Chandler was embarrassed by the lies. Ross knew none of the stories were true, and Monica and Rachel obviously didn't believe most of what Vic was saying. But Phoebe and Joey looked like they were eating it up. And even if they also doubted Vic, it still meant that Chandler would have to explain to them later why his friend had lied.

And he didn't want to explain a thing.

Behind him, Chandler heard Monica ask Vic a question about his job. Thank God. She was stepping in for him. Trying to change the subject. Let Vic lie about his own life for a little while.

+++++

An hour later, everyone was lounging in the living room, four empty bottles of wine on the coffee table. Seeing as how most of them were solidly sober, it looked as though Vic would be spending the night on the couch.

It was getting late. Chandler saw Joey stretch and sink deeper into the recliner. Rachel and Monica were propped up on the couch, their legs tucked under them. Phoebe, curled up on the floor next to Joey, was resting her head on his leg.

Vic was the only one who looked like he planned to keep going for a few more hours. Aside from a few rude jokes and his non-stop flirting with the women, he was a polite enough guest. He'd offered to help Monica clear the table, and after spreading the lies through dinner, he'd eagerly asked questions about everyone else for the rest of the night. It had turned into an evening of sharing old high school stories all around. Chandler was the only one who didn't participate.

"And I lost about 200 pounds, and here we are," Monica said, dishing up the last details from her past.

"Man, that's like two whole Monicas you lost. Amazing," Vic said, tipping his glass in her direction before finishing off the rest of the wine. Chandler was amazed _ he didn't even seem drunk.

"Looks like Vic's used to drinking a bit." Chandler jumped at the whisper behind him. Ross had joined him behind the couch, leaning against the kitchen table.

"Yeah," Chandler said, nodding. "I should probably get him to stop drinking. I think all we've got left is some rubbing alcohol and a little vanilla extract."

"Better get to him soon then," Ross said. "Monica'd be pissed if he finished off her vanilla. The stuff she buys is like $20 a bottle."

"She spends $20 a bottle on vanilla?" Chandler asked. "Maybe I should start drinking that stuff."

Ross gave him a humorless laugh. Chandler took a deep breath and, with a grimace pasted on his face, took a step toward the couch, where Vic was squeezed between Monica and Rachel.

"So, Vic, looks like you've got the couch tonight," Chandler said loudly. Monica and Rachel perked up; they'd been looking for a way to end the evening. Joey let out a soft snore from the recliner, where he'd finally fallen asleep.

"Man, party's over?" Vic said. The women nodded. Vic shrugged and looked at Chandler. "That's OK. How about you and me stay up, have a few more drinks, talk over old times?"

"Oh, I think there's been plenty of that talk tonight, don't you?" Chandler said, crossing his arms. Vic stood up and walked around the couch toward him. "Besides, there's nothing left to drink."

"C'mon, you must have something left. A light beer in the fridge maybe?" Vic opened the refrigerator and Chandler could hear him shuffling food around in his search.

"I don't know, I think we've got some vanilla left," Chandler said. "And it's the good stuff, too."

"Chandler," Monica said sternly. "You know how much that costs?"

"Look, we're all out of alcohol," Chandler said to Vic, ignoring Monica. "Besides, don't you think you've had enough?"

Chandler knew immediately that he'd crossed a line. Vic froze in place, then stood up slowly, the light from the refrigerator casting dark shadows across his cheeks and forehead and reflecting in his watery black eyes.

"Well, I guess you'd know when someone's had enough, right, Chandler?" Vic asked, letting the refrigerator door slide silently shut. Chandler sighed and ran a shaking hand over his face.

"I'm sorry," Chandler said. "I'm not gonna tell you what to do. But really, there's nothing left to drink."

"That's right, you'd never tell anyone what to do," Vic said. "That's not your style, to step in and keep somebody from making a mistake."

Chandler was starting to feel sick now. He could feel his friends watching them. He wanted nothing more than to push Vic outside, discuss this in private. Hell, not even discuss this. He really just wanted to run to his room and shut the door. He briefly wondered how long he would have to lock himself in there before everyone forgot to ask him what this was all about.

It wasn't going to happen that way, though. Vic was continuing.

"Of course, I shouldn't blame you," Vic said, stepping closer to Chandler. "It's Kit's fault, too. And mine. I guess you could even blame Amy." Chandler cringed at the last name. Ross finally stepped in.

"Look, man, let's talk about this later, OK?"

"No, I think Chandler needs to hear this."

"Vic, come on, let's at least go outside." Chandler took a step toward Vic and reached to touch his shoulder and guide him toward the door, but Vic shrugged away from him.

"Fine. We can take it outside."

Once in the hallway, Chandler closed the door behind them, but he knew his friends would be fighting for space to put their ears up against the door. At least they couldn't see him now.

"So, Chandler, who do you blame?" Vic asked, slipping right back into his conversation. "Kirk? He was the one driving, right?" Vic was standing just inches from Chandler now, staring up into his face. Chandler could smell Vic's sweet, drunk breath every time he opened his mouth. It made him nauseous.

"I don't know. It happened a long time ago," Chandler said softly. He wanted to run. He wouldn't look at Vic.

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Vic asked. "At least to you I guess it would. It was all just some tragic accident to you. A few people you didn't know very well."

"You know that's not true," Chandler said, finally staring hard at Vic.

"How would I know? It's not like we ever talked about it."

"I didn't know what to say."

"You never even visited Amy in the hospital." Vic sounded disgusted.

"I was 16. I didn't know what to do."

"So you didn't do anything. Just like that night."

Chandler finally lost his patience. "And what about you? What did you do? We all screwed up. Look, man, I know it's my fault. But it's your fault too."

Vic hit him. It wasn't a hard punch, but Chandler was caught off guard, and he stumbled and fell against the door, landing in a clumsy kneel on the floor. Vic was standing over him when he looked up, the left side of his face throbbing.

"You're right." Vic was yelling now. "We all killed those people. We killed that woman and Kirk. And Amy, well, Amy might as well be dead."

Chandler stayed where he was and met Vic's stare. He nodded. "I know."

Vic looked suddenly confused, as though he'd been expecting Chandler to fight back, to deny everything. There was no reason he should have expected an argument. Vic had known ever since the accident that Chandler blamed himself as much as anyone. But seeing Chandler kneeling in the shadows seemed to change everything. All at once Vic looked exhausted, his face falling into deep wrinkles, the shadows heavy under his eyes.

"Yeah," he said simply. "You're right. I've probably had too much to drink. I should go."

He didn't go right away. He stood over Chandler, panting as though he were out of breath, apparently deep in thought. He looked one more time at Chandler before he left.

"Thanks for dinner," he said.

"I'm sorry," Chandler said.

"Yeah, I know."

Chandler fell back on his heels as he watched Vic leave. He reached a hand up to his face, feeling the warm welt on his cheek, and closed his eyes. Now he would have to face everyone. Now they would all know.


	5. The Explanation

Everyone jumped back from the door when they heard Chandler start to open it

Everyone jumped back from the door when they heard Chandler start to open it. He stopped in the doorway, dismayed to see his friends forming a tight semicircle around him.

"Oh my God, are you OK?" Monica asked, taking a step closer to him when she saw the red welt blossoming on his face. She reached out to touch his warm cheek. He took her hand and nodded.

"I'm fine." Chandler walked the rest of the way into the apartment and stopped halfway toward the couch, then slowly turned to face everyone. "You guys heard everything?"

"Yeah," Ross said, nodding slowly. Chandler put a hand to his face and looked away.

"Wow, does that guy ever tell some stories," Phoebe said, interrupting the uncomfortable silence with a nervous laugh.

"Seriously, was anything he said tonight true?" Joey asked. "I mean come on, you having sex at 16? There's no way."

Chandler didn't say anything. Monica broke through her crowd of friends and handed him a towel and some ice.

"Mon-" Chandler started, and tried to grab her hand again. She backed away instead.

"You should put that on your face," she said. "It's already swelling."

Ross shifted at the uncomfortable exchange and glanced at Rachel. Everyone looked horrified and completely fascinated at the same time. They all wanted to hear the whole story. But Ross thought it best to give Monica and Chandler some space. Rachel apparently agreed. She shook her head abruptly and cleared her throat.

"Um, we should all probably get going," she said, and was met with mumbles of agreement. Monica didn't say anything, but Chandler looked up at the rest of his friends.

"No. Stay. I only want to explain this once." Chandler turned away and held the towel up to his eye as everyone else looked uncomfortably at each other, but finally settled around the living room. Monica wandered back to the kitchen, where she sat in a chair.

"So, um, to sum it all up, I know you guys all thought I was this great guy, but I'm actually an asshole," Chandler started.

"Yeah, I never thought you were all that great of a guy," Phoebe said.

Chandler laughed shortly at the small joke, and tried to give Phoebe a brief smile for her attempt at lightening the mood. He failed.

"Obviously, most of what Vic said tonight wasn't true," Chandler went on. He had decided to start from the beginning. "We didn't rob liquor stores, I never got backstage at a Guns N Roses concert and I had sex for the first time when I was 19, not with a stripper at my 16th birthday party."

"Are you sure you weren't 20?" Rachel asked. Ross nudged her shoulder and glared at her for interrupting.

"Nineteen," Chandler said. "Anyway, I'm not sure why he lied to you guys tonight. Vic's just, well, he's been messed up since … well, for a long time. Or maybe it's just easier to feed everyone a bunch of lies than tell the truth."

"What's the truth, Chandler?" Monica asked quietly. She was staring at her hands, which were folded in her lap. He looked at her and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's what I always told you guys. I was a geek in high school."

"But there's more," Rachel said.

"Yeah. A lot more," Chandler said. "We were this small group of friends, me and Vic and Kit and Kirk. And honestly, all through high school all we mostly did was hang out in our rooms and play cards or video games, talk about all the girls we'd never get. But every now and then, when someone's parents were gone, we'd raid the liquor cabinet and get really drunk. We thought we were real cool, you know? And then, sometimes, after drinking all that expensive booze, we'd sort of borrow a car. It seemed like everyone's dad, well, everyone's but mine, had a Porsche or a Ferrari or some exotic sports-car, and so we'd take it out and just drive around town."

"You'd drive drunk," Phoebe said.

"Yeah, we would. It was the'80s, you know? It sounds lame, but everyone did it. We even got pulled over by a cop once, and you know he just let us go? We told him we were just a couple blocks from home, and he let us go, told us to never do it again. I mean, it's no excuse. We knew what we were doing was stupid. It's not like we didn't know any better. But we did it anyway."

"So what happened?" Joey asked.

"One night, um, it was the end of our junior year, and we were at Vic's place. I think we were taking a break from studying for finals or something. And Vic's little sister, Amy, she was hanging out with us. We'd gotten into his dad's scotch and someone, probably Kit because he had an older brother, had brought a ton of beer, so we'd gone through that too. And then we all went out in Vic's dad's Ferrari. We took turns driving. Kirk was the last to go."

"Kurt, like Kurt Cobain? Or Kirk, like Kirk Cameron?" Joey asked.

"Or Captain Kirk?" Phoebe clarified.

"Captain Kirk," Chandler said. "Anyway, me and Vic and Amy were crammed into the back of the car, and Kirk and Kit were in the front. They were best friends. And man, Kirk was so drunk, he couldn't even walk. I remember that still, how he bumped into the car and fell into this rose bush, and then he hit his head when he got in the front seat. We were laughing so hard at him. He was so drunk, we all were, and we were getting into a car with him, and we were just laughing. How sick is that?"

Chandler drew in a deep, shaky breath. "So I don't know how long we were driving. I don't remember if we were swerving or going too fast or what. Probably we were. But somehow Kirk ended up in the wrong lane, on the wrong side of the road. And this woman, God, this woman, we hit her head on."

Chandler paused, and no one interrupted him. "She died instantly. Amanda White. That was her name. She had two kids in the back seat, she'd just picked them up at the baby sitter's, but they were OK. Their mom was dead, but they were OK. And Kirk, he died a few hours later at the hospital."

"What about Amy?" Rachel asked, her stunned voice matching her face.

"Amy." He said the name softly, blinking rapidly at the tears threatening to spill. "She was 14. She was so pretty. And she was so smart. She loved hanging out with us, she thought we were cool or something." He paused and licked his lips. "She was sitting between me and Vic, no seatbelt, and she got thrown forward. She went right through the windshield. They thought she was gonna die, but she made it. She's brain damaged now. Last I heard, she lives in a care home in Delaware."

Chandler stopped talking then and the room became eerily silent. He'd done it. He'd told them everything. Chandler stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, unable to face his friends. Monica was still sitting in the kitchen, her face drawn and blank. Nobody knew what to say.

Ross stood up and walked to Chandler, gripping his shoulder affectionately and trying to peer into his friend's face. Chandler just looked away.

"Ross?" Monica spoke up softly.

"Yeah?"

"Um, do you think we can be alone?"

"Yeah, of course." Ross turned once more to Chandler, who had the towel pressed to his face again. "You OK?"

"I'm fine," Chandler said thickly.

"Call me later, or stop by, you know, if you need anything." Chandler didn't respond.

Everyone else stood up and filed to the door, not sure what to say or do. Rachel was the last to walk by Chandler. Before she passed him, she paused and gave him a quick hug.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "But remember, we're your friends, and we love you."

"Thanks." Chandler knew he didn't deserve her sympathy, or her support. He didn't watch as his friends walked out, silent as they tried to digest what they had just been told.

+++++

Chandler walked across the room toward Monica after everyone had left. He set the towel, now soggy with melted ice, on the table and sat in a chair across from her.

"I'm so sorry, Monica."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked.

"I'm sorry about the accident, and I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I'm sorry I never told you."

Monica grabbed the towel and carried it to the sink, where she squeezed it out before taking more ice out of the freezer and creating another icepack for him. She handed Chandler the bundle and then sat down again.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Chandler took a deep breath. "I didn't know what to say."

"You managed OK just now."

"I didn't know how to bring it up. Where to start."

"We've known each other for almost 13 years. We've been best friends for eight years. We've been sleeping together for two years. You could have found the time."

"How do you tell your best friend that you killed someone?"

"You didn't kill them," Monica said dully.

"I might as well have." Chandler sighed. "Look, Mon, there isn't a day that's gone by that I haven't felt horrible, felt totally ashamed of myself for what happened that night. Why would I want to share that with the people I love? Why bog them down in that? It's my horror story. No one else, especially you, deserves to go through that with me."

"What are you talking about?" Monica said, stunned by his line of thinking. "What do you think I'm here for? You think I'm just here for the good times? That I'm with you just because you make me laugh, because you make me happy?"

"Well, isn't that it?"

"Chandler, I'm here for everything. That's what friends, that's what girlfriends and wives and all the people you love are there for. We help each other through everything. Think of all the times you've been there for me, for any one of us, when something terrible happened. When Ross cheated on Rachel, did we all desert him? When, when Rachel practically broke up Ross and Emily, did we abandon her? Or you, when you kissed Kathy, and you nearly ruined your friendship with Joey, weren't we all there for you? Maybe we don't always agree with our friends or support what they did, but we support them."

"But you didn't go through this with me. I went through all this alone. It happened so long ago. There wasn't anything you could do about it."

"You were afraid of what I'd think. Of what we'd all think about you."

"Yes. Of course," Chandler said. "But that wasn't all. I just knew it would make you so unhappy to know this, and there wasn't anything you could do about it. I dealt with it all a long time ago. There isn't anything you could do or say now that would change the past."

"I know, but that's not what matters," Monica said. "What matters is being honest and open with each other. Not holding things back. Not keeping secrets. Not lying to each other."

"I never lied to you," Chandler said.

"Maybe not, but it kinda feels like you did."

Chandler looked up at her and saw that she was crying, staring up at the ceiling to keep the tears from running down her cheeks.

"See, see, this is why I didn't tell you. Look how miserable you are. You're crying. Look at what I've done."

"I'm not crying because of that damn accident," Monica shouted, finally losing her temper. "It hurts that you didn't say anything sooner. You not telling me this, it's like you didn't trust me. And not only that, to keep something this big away from me, it's like, it's like, well what else is there? What else are you hiding? I want you to tell me everything. I want to know everything about you. And now it's like we're starting from scratch. It's like I know nothing about you."

"Monica, you know that's not true," Chandler said.

"How could I know that? If you didn't tell me this, something so big, what else might there be?"

"There's nothing. That's the big secret."

Monica sighed heavily and wiped at her eyes. "I just don't understand why you couldn't tell me."

"I told you. I love you, and I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want this to drag you down." Chandler looked down at his hands. "I was wrong, OK? I understand that. And I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Yes. You should have."

"I didn't want you to hate me," Chandler said, his own voice shaking now. "I hated myself for so long after that crash. I still hate myself. And the way I felt, I didn't want you to ever think that about me."

"I could never hate you," Monica said, looking up at him. "I hate what you did, I hate what happened. But it's too late. I love you now, and I could never hate you."

"God, I'm so sorry."

Chandler finally broke down. Monica stood up and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. She cried as he shook in her arms. And she wondered to herself how she was going to process this information. The man she was going to marry in less than a year was indirectly responsible for killing two people, and for ruining one girl's life. Monica pulled Chandler closer and tried to ignore the cold, sick feeling growing in her stomach, the feeling that made her want to push him away instead of hold him to her. She could accept this. She could be OK with this. She loved him.

+++++

Their friends had gathered across the hall.

"So, let me get this straight. Chandler's never had sex with a stripper?" Joey said, trying to lighten the mood and delay a difficult conversation as everyone settled around his living room.

Phoebe shook her head, and everyone else ignored him.

"How could he not tell us?" Rachel asked. "It's just terrible. Imagine keeping that to himself all these years."

"I feel like everything's different now," Phoebe said. "It's like it all happened to a different person, like it can't be our friend Chandler."

"Yeah," Joey said. "The Chandler I know would never do anything like that."

"Come on, guys," Ross said. "You can't know what it was like for him. Remember what it's like to be 16? Remember all the stupid things you did? I mean, Phoebe, you've done some pretty crazy things. You must have some stuff in your past that you're not proud of."

"Yeah, but nothing like that," Phoebe said. "Murder is a little out of my league."

"It wasn't murder," Ross said angrily. "He was just a stupid kid who messed up, and his friends messed up, and people died because of it. It was an accident."

"No," Phoebe said, "an accident is when you drop your fork at a restaurant and the waiter has to bring you a new one, or when you're trying to take a picture in Central Park and some guy walks right in front of the camera without looking and ruins your shot, or when-"

"OK, got it," Ross said.

"What I mean," Phoebe continued, "is an accident is a mistake, when someone does something stupid without thinking, and no one meant any harm."

"Yeah, and I think that's what happened with Chandler," Ross said. He sighed and looked desperately at his friends. He wanted them to understand, for Chandler's sake. "You think he meant for those people to die? Yes, what happened was horrible. But it was an accident. A tragic, terrible accident."

Everyone was silent again.

"I just don't know if I can look at him the same," Joey said finally.

"Guys, Chandler needs us now," Ross said. "He's our friend, and we all care about him, and we have to take the good and the bad. You may think he's an asshole, but this is like the only bad thing he's ever done. And yes, it was horrible, but think about the five worst things you've ever done, and then see who's the asshole."

Everyone was thoughtful for a few minutes. Joey was the first to volunteer something from his past.

"Yeah, I, um, I once beat up this kid in junior high for being a big dork," he said. "I didn't mean it, but I actually hurt him kinda bad. He had to go to the emergency room and everything."

"I told everyone at school that Lucy Reynolds had chlamydia in the 10th grade," Rachel said. "It was just supposed to be a joke, but it stuck with her, and she couldn't get a boyfriend until college."

Everyone looked at Phoebe.

"Hey, don't even get me started," she said.

"Guys, Ross is right," Joey said. "Right now we see the awful thing that Chandler did, but we know he's a good guy. He's still the best friend I've ever had."

"You're right," Phoebe said, and then repeated it with more conviction. "You're right. He's still Chandler. He's still our dorky gay friend."

"Yeah, we all know what a great friend he is," Rachel said. "Now we have to be there for him."

"Good," Ross said, sighing in relief. "I just hope Monica's as understanding." Everyone fell silent again. It was hard to tell how Monica would take this information. They all knew she loved him, but news like this, especially since he'd never told her about it, could be devastating.

Ross and Phoebe stayed at Joey's apartment late that night, everyone tired but too shocked by the night's events to sleep. Instead, they sat around drinking beer and talking about what had happened.

"Kind of ironic, drinking after a night like this," Rachel said, holding up her second beer.

"Yeah, I hadn't thought about that," Joey said, looking distastefully at his drink before taking a sip. Rachel let a few minutes of silence pass before deciding on a change of topic.

"So, Joey," she said. "You'll never guess who I saw naked in your room today."

Joey looked anxiously at Phoebe, who took a sudden interest in her shoes.

"Why didn't anyone tell me my shoes were untied? So embarrassing," Phoebe said, reaching down to fiddle with the knots in her shoelaces.

"More embarrassing than being caught naked in Joey's room?" Rachel asked.

"What are you talking about?" Ross asked.

"Man, am I tired," Phoebe said, stretching her arms wide and yawning. "All these secrets, dirty pasts, sex with strippers. I've got a lot of my novel to work on tonight."

"Yeah, me too. So tired," Joey said, matching her yawn and stretches. Before Rachel or Ross could react, Phoebe ran through the front door and Joey disappeared into his bedroom.

"What was that all about?" Ross asked.

Rachel shrugged. "I think they're doing it."

"Wow," Ross said. "So, um, speaking of doing it-"

"Yeah, come on." Rachel pulled Ross into her room. "But try to keep down the yelling. We have thin floors."

Thirty minutes later, Ross and Rachel lay sleepily in her bed, both staring up at the ceiling. The sex _ Rachel had lost track of which bonus night they were on now _ had been a nice distraction from the otherwise upsetting night, but now Chandler was back on her mind.

"I still can't believe he never told us," Rachel said softly.

"Well, it can't be easy, talking about something like that," Ross said.

Rachel rolled into his chest, craving the comfort of a friend more than the physical intimacy now. He wrapped an arm around her.

"You were a good friend to him tonight," she said.

"He deserves a good friend," Ross said simply. "I just hope he realizes that." 


	6. The Fight

Maybe I wasn't the one driving, but any one of us could have stopped that

Author's note: I realize many of you have probably already seen this story on various fanfic sites all over the net, so I figured I may as well post the rest of it here. I'm putting up all but the last chapter. I'll add the end in a few days.

Reviews, as always, would be much appreciated. Thanks!

Chandler leaned against the short wall that encircled the roof of their building and stared out over the city that was darkening in front of him. He stood apart from his friends, who were holding a lively conversation behind him, stretched out on lounge chairs and blankets. It was hot and everyone felt cranky and tired. Chandler could feel his T-shirt sticking to his back. They were waiting for the Fourth of July fireworks to begin.

He poked absently at the bruise that still rimmed his left eye and listened to the drone of voices around him. Chandler considered himself lucky. It had been four days since he'd told his friends about the accident. And over the past four days, each of them had let him know, either through some small gesture or an outright show of support, that he was still their friend and that they cared.

He still wasn't happy that they knew, but he couldn't deny that it was something of a relief to have his history out in the open. And while he had never really doubted that his friends would stick by him, he was pleased to see that they were making an effort to keep things normal.

Not that they hadn't asked him some uncomfortable questions over the past few days. Phoebe wanted to know why he hadn't stopped Kirk from driving that night. Chandler didn't have an answer for her. Joey wanted to know if Chandler had visited Amy since the accident. He hadn't. Rachel wanted to know what things had been like after the accident. That last year of school had been miserable, Chandler told her. Kit had spent every spare moment studying his way into Harvard. Vic had joined up with a new group of friends and spent almost every weekend of his senior year drunk. Chandler had been alone most of the time, upping his cigarette intake to nearly three packs a day.

Chandler was flooded with questions from his friends, but to his great surprise, Monica didn't ask much of him. After spending almost the entire night after Vic's visit talking about why he never told her of the accident, Monica apparently had decided she was satisfied with his answers, or at least willing to accept his apologies. But they hadn't spoken much about the accident itself.

The past few days at home had been cordial between Chandler and Monica, but also very quiet. They talked about their days and what they were having for dinner, but little else. She smiled at his jokes, and accepted his quick kisses in the morning before work and at night before sleep, but they were missing an intimacy. Chandler knew that soon he would have to bring this up, but he wasn't eager to discuss the accident, so for now he was willing to take Monica's lead and ignore it.

Chandler was jolted out of his thoughts by an explosion in front of him. A red burst of sparks lit up the sky and the dark buildings downtown. His friends jumped up from their seats and joined him at the edge of the roof to watch the fireworks. Monica stood next to Joey, at the opposite end of the wall from Chandler, the frown on her face glowing with each burst of color.

+++++

When Monica woke up the next morning, Chandler had already left for work. She had the day off, but she didn't lounge in bed. She'd been trying to keep herself busy over the past several days, to keep from thinking about the information that had been forced upon her. So instead of relaxing alone in her apartment, Monica got up and went across the hall to look for Rachel. She hoped they could spend the day together.

Rachel's bedroom door was wide open, and Monica could tell from a quick glance inside that her friend was gone. That seemed a bit odd, because it was still early, and Monica knew Rachel wouldn't have to leave for work for another hour at least. Monica was about to turn around and leave the apartment when she heard familiar voices coming from Joey's room.

"That's right. Just like that." Monica frowned in concentration and moved closer to Joey's closed door, nearly pressing her head against it. "Good. Now watch what I'm doing. See where I've got my fingers? OK, now you try it."

"I don't know, Phoebs, are you sure that's right?" Monica screamed when she heard Joey's voice. A loud thud came from the bedroom and, with her hands pressed over her mouth to prevent more shouts, Monica raced to the door.

Rachel was standing in the hallway when Monica flew breathless out of the apartment.

"Mon, slow down. What's going on?"

"Oh my God, Rachel. Oh God," Monica said, shuddering. "I think, I think I just heard Joey and Phoebe having sex."

"Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure they're doing it," Rachel said casually, walking to Monica's apartment and letting herself in.

"What? Really? Why?" Monica followed Rachel into her kitchen.

"Well, a few days ago I saw Phoebe naked in Joey's room," Rachel started.

"You did? And you didn't tell me? Why? Why wouldn't you tell me? Why doesn't anyone talk to me anymore?"

"Whoa, calm down," Rachel said, sitting at the kitchen table and peeling an orange. "I saw her the night Vic was over for dinner. Somehow, between Vic's sexual lies and the fatal car crash stories, there just never seemed to be the right time to tell you."

"Oh. Yeah." Monica sat next to Rachel at the table. Rachel could see that she'd offended Monica, or at least brought up a topic better left alone.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Rachel said, patting Monica's hand. "Anyway, there wasn't much to tell. Phoebe was sleeping naked in Joey's room. You know, I'd kill for her ass. Not a dimple to speak of."

"Where was Joey?"

"Here, I guess. He wasn't in there, I don't think. I didn't see him," Rachel said. With a disbelieving snort she added, "Phoebe said she was napping. She said she always naps in the nude. Right, and I sleep in a g-string."

"Well, actually-"

"Monica, I do not sleep in a g-string."

"I know. Or, actually, I don't know, but what I meant was, I think she really does nap naked. You know how many times Chandler and I have walked in on her in the past few weeks? I know Phoebe's breasts better than I know my own."

"Chandler must love that," Rachel said, laughing.

"You'd think," Monica said. "But he's afraid I'll catch him staring and beat the crap out of him."

"At least it keeps him honest."

"Yeah, sure," Monica said.

Rachel finished peeling her orange and split it in half, offering several wedges to Monica. They sucked silently on the orange for a few minutes.

"So, do you have to work today?" Rachel asked.

"No, I'm off."

"Me too. Hey, you know what we should do?"

"What?"

"We should get out the wedding planner and get to work," Rachel said, standing up and pulling out the planner from a cabinet. She set it on the kitchen table and pulled her chair closer to Monica, so they both could look at it. "You still have to find a caterer and a band and a florist. So are you sure you want the bridesmaid dresses to be gold? Blue is really a better color on me."

Monica, her chin cupped in her hand, wasn't listening.

"Mon? Blue dresses?" She got no response. "You know, I was thinking. Maybe Phoebe and I should just wear pantsuits. White pantsuits. Mon?"

Rachel was getting desperate. "The thing is, honey, I think I may be pregnant," Rachel said. "So you know what that means? I may need a special dress made, you know, because I'll be showing. Or maybe I'll need to bring my baby to your wedding. That's OK, right? Mon? Monica!"

"Huh? What?" Monica sat up and stared blearily at Rachel.

"Mon, I've been talking about the wedding for like that last 15 minutes, and you weren't paying any attention. Something's wrong. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Honey, I just told you I was gonna be pregnant at your wedding. If that isn't stealing your thunder, I don't know what is, and you didn't even try to throw something at me. Now seriously, what's wrong?"

"I'm just, I don't feel like talking about the wedding right now, OK?"

"OK. We don't have to. But why?"

Monica sighed and pulled at her hair. "I just can't think about that now."

"You can't think about the wedding?"

"It's too hard."

"What do you mean, it's too hard?" Rachel's voice was cold and serious. She stared hard at her friend. Monica didn't look back at her. She bit her lip and squeezed an orange slice between her fingers. "Monica, what's going on?"

"I don't know." Monica finally looked up at Rachel. Her eyes were watery and her lip was twitching from the effort of keeping herself from crying. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking. "I don't know."

"You don't know about the wedding?" Monica nodded. "You don't know if you want to marry Chandler?"

"Rachel, what he did, it's horrible," Monica said, choking back sobs now. "People died. That woman had children. And Vic's sister, she was so young. And he could have stopped it. I feel like I can't even look at him now. I don't even want to kiss him or touch him or be near him right now. How can I marry him?" She finished and buried her face in her hands, letting her hair fall around her.

"Oh, God, Monica." Rachel stood up and wrapped Monica into a hug, holding her until she pulled away and wiped the tears away from her face.

"Have you talked to him about this?" Rachel asked. Monica shook her head. "You have to talk to him. He needs to hear this."

"I know. Of course I know," Monica said. "But how do I tell him this? I still love him. I just need some time."

"Then tell him you need time," Rachel said. "But tell him."

+++++

When Chandler got home that night, he was surprised to find Monica sitting alone on the couch. At this time of day she was usually cooking dinner, or at least hanging out with their friends. The apartment felt oddly empty and hollow as he walked in, and he was immediately on edge.

"Hi," he said softly as he set down his briefcase. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and kissed her on the cheek before sitting in his recliner and rolling up his sleeves. It was even hotter in their apartment than it had been outside, and Chandler realized all of the windows were closed. He took a drink from his beer and leaned down to look in Monica's face. "How was your day?"

"Fine," Monica said, so quiet he had trouble hearing her. She finally looked at him, her eyes settling on his beer, following his hand as he lifted it to his mouth and sipped at it again. He saw her watching him and raised his eyebrows.

"You OK?"

"Yeah," Monica said, nodding slowly. "Did you have a bad day?"

"Good and bad. Doug was so thrilled with my work on the Taylor project that I thought he was gonna skip the ass slap and just put me over his lap and spank me." Monica didn't laugh, and he frowned. "Why would you think I had a bad day?"

"You're drinking," Monica said. "You don't usually drink when you get home from work."

"It's hot," Chandler said. He studied the beer in his hand, and it dawned on him why she looked so uncomfortable. "Does my drinking bother you? I mean, now that you know, well, about what happened, does it bother you?"

Monica shrugged. Chandler put his beer down on the coffee table and sat next to her on the couch.

"Monica, we haven't talked about this at all since you found out about it. Please, if something's wrong, talk to me. You can talk to me."

Monica played with her engagement ring, sliding it up and down her finger, and glanced nervously around the room.

"It's just, you seem so OK about it," Monica said quietly.

Chandler ran a hand through his hair and leaned back on the couch. He looked quickly at her, and then turned away.

"I'm not," he said. "I'm not OK about it. Of course I'm not. I never will be. But it happened 15 years ago, and I've learned to live with it."

"I guess I will, too," Monica muttered. "How did you do that? How did you learn to get over it?"

"First, I'm not over it," Chandler said. "But I've come to terms with it. I guess I just figure, it happened, and there's nothing I can do about that now. So I just try to move on. What else can I do?"

Monica was quiet again, pulling her ring on and off, sliding it from one finger to another. "You never told me about what happened afterwards. Was there a trial?"

Chandler shook his head. "No. Kirk was driving, so his insurance paid off the woman's family and Amy's family, and his parents gave them some big settlement. And since the rest of us were minors, they just let us go."

"Oh."

"You think we should've been punished." It wasn't a question. Monica didn't say anything. "Maybe we didn't go to jail or anything, but we were punished. I mean, look at Vic. He's a drunk now. That's the way he dealt with it. And Kit, well, Kirk was his best friend. I don't think I saw him smile even once for a year. And I punished myself, probably more than anyone else could. I stayed in my room all the time, just thinking about what had happened, what I'd done wrong. I didn't have any friends in my last year of high school. I was terrified of cars and I wouldn't touch alcohol."

"You got over that," Monica said, glancing at his beer.

"Well, you know, college," Chandler said, a small smile pulling up his lips. "It's kind of hard not to."

"How can you even make jokes at all anymore?" Monica said suddenly. "How can you laugh or smile or even go one minute without thinking about this? I can't."

"I have to," Chandler said loudly. "You know how easy it would be for me to sit here and blame myself constantly? It's scary how easily I could do that. Because that's what I did, for like two years after that accident. All the time, when I was in class or watching TV or eating or even sleeping, that's all I thought about.

"You know how many times I've replayed that night in my mind? Thought about what I should've done? I mean, I was driving earlier that night. It could've been me. And even though I wasn't driving when it actually happened, any one of us could have stopped it. I wasn't so drunk, or so young, or so stupid that I couldn't have said, 'Hey, Kirk, how about we wait a few hours?' I could've taken the keys or locked myself in the car. I could have not drank at all and driven myself. But I didn't do any of that. And trust me, no one knows better than I do how horrible that is. How evil that makes me."

Chandler scrubbed his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes as though he were very tired. He wanted Monica to say something, to tell him he wasn't evil, or that she understood and she forgave him. But clearly that wasn't what she was thinking. He took her hand and leaned down so he could look in her face. She was crying.

"Monica, I'm so sorry about all this," he said. "But it happened, and there's nothing either one of us can do about it. I love you. Tell me what I can do now to make things right again."

"Nothing," Monica whispered.

"What?"

She pulled her hand away. "There's nothing you can do."

"What do you mean? What are you saying?"

Monica looked at her hands as she spoke. "Chandler, I need some time."

"OK, I can leave for a little while," he said, standing up. "I can give you some time to think."

"No. Listen to me. I don't know how I feel. About you, and us. I mean, I know I love you, but everything's changed. And the future, our future, I just don't know."

"Our future? You don't know?" Chandler felt suddenly dizzy and backed a step away from her, stumbling against the coffee table. He realized what she was saying. "The wedding?"

"Chandler, I just don't know," Monica said, finally staring up at him, tears leaking down the side of her face and dripping off her chin.

"You want to call the wedding off."

"No, no, that's not what I said," Monica said. "I just need time. I'm just, I'm not sure."

Chandler stood staring at her for a moment longer, then turned around and walked to their bedroom. He pulled a suitcase from his closet and started stuffing clothes into it, then walked to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and a razor. Monica followed him back into the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" she asked. She sounded tired, her voice heavy.

"I've got to get out of here," he said.

"You're leaving?"

"Look, Monica, you know how I feel, you know I love you and I'd do anything in the world to make you happy," Chandler said, zipping up his suitcase and facing her. "You know me better than anyone in the world. You always have, even before you found out about this. And if you need time, if you need to think things over, well, you're gonna have to do that alone. I can't be here while you decide whether or not to spend the rest of your life with me. I can't just sit here and watch you decide whether I'm worth it, because I have a feeling I'm not."

"I'm not asking you to leave," Monica said weakly. "You don't have to go."

"Yeah, I do."


	7. The Ring

Rachel had gone to Ross after her emotional morning with Monica

Monica couldn't believe it had come to this. He'd left.

After Chandler left their bedroom, she sat heavily on her bed, tears flooding her eyes, staring blearily at the closed door. She looked around her room, their room, pieces of their lives together sitting on the night stands, nailed to the walls, tucked in corners. His alarm clock sat next to her hand lotion. His dirty tennis shoes brushed against her beach sandals. She didn't bother turning around, but she knew that behind her, perched under the lamp on his side of the bed, was a framed picture of them.

She wondered when they had reached this point, when there was no turning back.

They had become engaged nearly two months ago. That had been the most difficult and the most wonderful time of her life. She had never felt so terrified, so uncertain, and so absolutely confident in her future at once. She thought now that perhaps Richard's intrusion in their lives then had been a good thing. It had forced them to turn toward each other so forcefully that not a doubt had been left in her mind that he was it. He was the one. Not a doubt.

But their lives had become impossibly entwined even before his proposal. That came from years of friendship, from years of seeing him every day. He knew all about her proudest moments and her greatest shames, because he had been there, firsthand, for most of them. He had been with her to celebrate. Or he had stayed behind to cry with her. And there had always been a lot of laughter, even in her darkest moments.

Her darkest moments. He knew all about those. Too bad the sharing hadn't been mutual. She hadn't known of his dark times, times that she couldn't imagine enduring, times that made her own bad memories seem insignificant. She wondered how he had managed to come so far in his life with those dark memories weighing him down. She wondered how he had managed to keep it all from her.

And she wondered now how they had arrived at this point, with her sitting in their room, surrounded by their life, alone.

Monica wiped angrily at the tears that had started running down her face and pushed herself off of the bed. She was being overly dramatic. What was she going to do next? Look through old photo albums and love letters? It wasn't as though he had moved out. It wasn't as though they had broken up. Not yet. This was still their home and their life together. Chandler would be back.

+++++

Rachel was with Ross when Chandler arrived at his apartment. After her emotional talk with Monica, she had gone to Ross, debating whether or no to tell him what his sister was thinking. Rachel knew it was something Monica and Chandler needed to work out in private, but it was also a lot of information for her to keep to herself.

As it turned out, all thoughts of telling Ross vanished as soon as she entered his apartment. It was insanely hot outside, but Ross, who hated stale, recycled air, refused to turn on the air conditioning. He was sitting on his couch when she walked in, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and sucking on an ice cube. Rachel never stood a chance.

So when Chandler knocked on the door a few hours later, they were both naked, Rachel's bare thighs draped across Ross's lap. They had been contemplating taking a cold shower together. Chandler walked in barely a second after knocking.

"Hey, Ross, you mind-" Chandler stopped in his tracks. "Oh my God."

"Chandler!" Ross yelled, grabbing his boxers from the floor and pulling them into his lap. Rachel shrieked and wrapped herself in a blanket draped over the back of the couch.

"Holy crap, did I just walk into the past?" Chandler said, holding up one hand and covering his eyes with the other. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry. I'll go. I'm gone. I'm sorry. I didn't see a thing." He turned and walked straight into a wall, missing the doorway with his eyes still closed. Just as he was about to leave, Rachel spotted the suitcase in his hand.

"Chandler?" she said suddenly. "Is everything OK?"

"No, you and Ross are naked," he said.

Rachel pulled the blanket tighter and repeated her question. "Seriously, are you OK?"

Ross, still hunched over on the couch clutching his boxers, threw her a confused glare. Was she crazy? They were naked, practically caught in the act, and she was asking if Chandler was OK?

"Yeah," Chandler said slowly, rubbing his eyes, his back still to them. Then he shook his head. "Not really." He turned to face them then, and Rachel thought he looked exhausted, as though he'd gone far too long without sleep. His eyes were puffy and red. She stood up, pulling the blanket more firmly around her.

"I'll leave," she announced, and started picking up her clothes.

Chandler jerked at this and blinked rapidly at her, like he'd just woken up from a dream. "No, no, God, no, I'll leave. I'm sorry I interrupted your, um, well, whatever. I'll go."

"No, Chandler, you stay. I was on my way out anyway," Rachel said firmly. "I'll be out of here in a minute."

Chandler looked as though he wanted to argue, but Rachel had disappeared into the bathroom before he could say anything. He shuffled in place and passed his suitcase from one hand to the other. Ross could see now why Rachel was behaving oddly. Chandler looked shell-shocked, pale and tired, and on the verge of a breakdown. He was breathing heavily and was swaying slightly from side to side, making him look dizzy.

"Hey, why don't you sit down," Ross said, suddenly feeling less self-conscious about his own appearance. "Let me get dressed, OK? Sit down." Chandler nodded and obeyed. He sat at the far end of the couch from Ross, still gripping his bag.

Ross got up carefully, using a pillow to cover himself from behind, and shuffled to his bedroom. Rachel was in there, buttoning her shirt.

"Rachel, what's going on?" Ross whispered, pulling on his boxers and looking around for a clean T-shirt.

"I'm not sure," Rachel started.

"You know something," Ross hissed, pulling a blue T-shirt over his head. "He looks like he's gonna, I don't know, stick his head in an oven or something. If you know what's wrong, you need to tell me. At least give me some warning before I go out there and talk to him."

"I don't know for sure," Rachel started again, ignoring Ross's frown of impatience. "But maybe, maybe it has to do with something Monica told me this morning."

"And that would be…"

"Monica said she was having doubts."

"Doubts?" Ross said, zipping up his pants now. "What kind of doubts?"

"Wedding doubts."

"What?" Ross said. "Please tell me you mean whether she should wear an off-the-shoulder dress or something with poofy sleeves. Or that she's changed her mind about the flowers again."

"No, not those kind of doubts," Rachel said. "More like groom doubts."

"Oh my God. She doesn't know if she wants to marry Chandler?"

"Ross, I think she's just confused," Rachel said. "All this stuff about Chandler and the accident just got dumped on her, and she doesn't know how to deal with it. I mean, can you really blame her?"

"So she doesn't want to marry him?"

"I don't know. It's not that simple," Rachel said. "Look, you stay here and talk to him, and I'll go talk to Monica, OK? I'm sure they'll work this out."

"Yeah, yeah, OK," Ross said. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Just be a friend. That's all we can do, right?"

They walked out together, and Rachel stopped in front of Chandler.

"Hey, look, I'm really sorry about this," he said.

"Oh please, it's fine. It's not like you haven't seen these babies before," Rachel said, ignoring Ross's bewildered stare. She crouched in front of Chandler and gave him a warm hug. "You'll be OK. We're here for you."

Chandler nodded and mumbled a thank you, then rested his forehead in his hands. Rachel left.

"So, what's going on?" Ross asked, sitting next to Chandler.

"I don't know," Chandler said, shaking his head. He swiped a hand over his face. "Everything's so messed up. Monica, she says she doesn't know if she wants to marry me. You know, because of what happened. I guess I'm not the kind of person she's looking for anymore."

"I'm so sorry," Ross said. He'd seen his friend upset like this before, years ago, but he still didn't know quite what to do or say. He settled for wrapping an arm around Chandler's shoulder.

"I can't lose her, Ross," Chandler said, his voice shaking. "Not now. Not because of this. I just can't."

Chandler broke down then, dropping his suitcase and burying his face in his hands. Ross patted his back and finally reached over and hugged him. When Chandler felt a little more under control, he backed off and smiled nervously.

"So, um, you and Rachel," he began.

"Oh, that. Yeah. Well, you know, bonus night," Ross said.

"Right, bonus night," Chandler repeated.

"Yeah. So, whew, got that out of the way. No more bonus night for us."

"Wow, great, what a relief, man."

"Yeah, because, you know, that'd be awkward, to have bonus night hanging over our heads." Ross couldn't believe they were having this conversation.

"Sure, I mean, you can't just keep having meaningless sex with your ex-girlfriend." Chandler shook his head at his own lame comment.

"No, no, that'd be, well, crazy."

"Right. No, you can't do that."

"No. No. So that was it. No more sex for Ross."

Chandler raised an eyebrow at him. "You sure about that one, my man?"

+++++

Monica was cleaning the bathroom when Rachel got there. Rachel followed the sound of furious scrubbing, and found Monica leaning over the bathtub, her hair falling in her eyes and the front of her tank top wet with perspiration.

"Monica? Honey? What are you doing?"

"I'm basting a chicken," Monica said, blowing the hair out of her face. "What does it look like? I'm cleaning."

"OK." Monica continued scrubbing, ignoring Rachel, who put the lid down on the toilet and sat down. "Um, Mon, you think you could stop for a minute?"

Monica gave one more brisk scrub, then leaned over the edge of the bathtub for a moment. "Fine," she said and pulled the plastic gloves off her hands. "What's up?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I want to talk about it now."

Rachel started the conversation for her. "You kicked out Chandler?"

"What? Is that what he said?" Monica slapped her hand against the floor. "I didn't kick him out. He left."

"No, Mon, he didn't say anything," Rachel said. "I just assumed, you know, because you were so upset."

"Because I was upset," Monica repeated. "You know what I can't figure out? Why am I the only one who's upset? Why is everyone else acting like it's no big deal? Everybody's like, 'Oh, it's Chandler, he's our buddy.' Why is it so easy for you to accept this?"

"It's not," Rachel said, surprised by Monica's outburst. "It's not easy for any of us. I mean, yes, he's our friend, but my God, trust me, we all know how horrible this is."

"Then why aren't you acting like it's horrible? Why am I the one feeling guilty, like I'm not supposed to judge him? He's the one who messed up."

"I don't know, Mon, because that's not coming from any of us. We know this is hard for you, and we know you're dealing with it the best you can," Rachel said. They were quiet for a moment, and then Rachel leaned forward and folder her hands in front of her. "Can I tell you something?"

"What?" Monica said miserably.

"When I was in high school, I don't think you knew this, but I did a some of the things Chandler was talking about."

"What do you mean?"

"It wasn't very often, maybe three times total, but I went to a few parties with Chip, and I know there were some nights when we shouldn't have driven home, when both of us were way too drunk. Once, one time, I was even the one driving. Monica, what happened to Chandler, that could've so easily been me."

"Oh, wow," Monica said quietly, and leaned heavily against the side of the bathtub, ignoring the cold porcelain chilling her arms. The truth was, she wasn't surprised to hear this from Rachel. If anything, she was surprised at how little this news affected her. She was surprised that it made such a big difference to her that Rachel was just a friend, not someone she was supposed to marry and spend the rest of her life with. And no one had ever died because of Rachel.

Yes, she felt disappointed in Rachel. She lost a little respect for her. But Monica had always known that Rachel was a little wild in high school. She always figured her friend was a little lucky to have made it out unscathed. And that was what it was all about _ luck. Both Chandler and Rachel had made bad decisions a long time ago, but to very different results.

And that was the point. Chandler's bad decision had killed people. Rachel's hadn't.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," Rachel went on. "I don't feel like I need to get it off my chest or anything. But I think maybe that's why I have an easier time accepting Chandler now, and what he did. Because it could've been me."

Monica nodded.

Rachel stayed with her for another couple hours, although they talked little about Chandler or the accident or the wedding. They made dinner together, and when Phoebe and Joey came home, explained what had happened.

Joey took the news of their fight the hardest.

"Man, after all that trouble you two went through getting engaged," he said. "You can't call off the wedding now."

"Joey, I'm not calling it off," Monica said. "I'm just, thinking about things, I guess. I don't know what's going to happen."

"But he left," Joey said. "He moved out. He even took his shower cap with him."

"Chandler uses a shower cap?" Phoebe asked.

"He has a sensitive scalp," Monica said.

"Look, it's really none of our business," Rachel said. "Their relationship, not Chandler's scalp," she added to Phoebe.

"Well, that's really none of our business either," Phoebe admitted. "But it's a little weird. Chandler in a shower cap?"

"Anyway, this is between Monica and Chandler," Rachel said. "We need to let them handle this."

"But he's my best friend," Joey said. "Monica, you know you love him. Just give him another chance, let him explain."

"He already has," Monica said. "Joey, I know this is hard for you, I know you care about him, but trust me, it's hard for me too. This isn't just some rash decision I made. I haven't even decided anything yet."

"I know, I know," Joey said, starting to cry.

"Hey, I know what'll make you feel better," Phoebe said, and whispered in his ear. Joey smiled reluctantly.

"OK," he said, and let Phoebe lead him out of the apartment.

"Seriously, what is going on with those two?" Monica asked. Rachel shrugged.

"Seriously, I think they're doing it," Rachel said. "And if this keeps up, we may be going to a wedding next year no matter what you decide."

+++++

The next few days weren't fun for anyone. Chandler tried to make it easier for his friends, insisting that he didn't mind if they hung out with Monica, and that he needed the time alone anyway. The truth was, aside from just forgetting all this had happened and returning to his life with Monica, he didn't know what he needed. He felt equal degrees of anguish and desperation no matter what he was doing _ watching TV, going to work, spending time with friends. So he figured he might as well encourage them to hang out with Monica. He secretly hoped they would cheer her up and convince her to come back to him.

He fought the near-constant urge to call her. He didn't really know what to say anyway. But he often felt like he should at least try, just pick up the phone or show up at their front door, and keep talking until he convinced her that he was OK, that they would be OK. The fact that he couldn't convince her felt like just another shortcoming on his part. It felt like he wasn't trying hard enough.

Monica, meanwhile, was fighting the same urge to call him. It struck her as absurdly ironic that the one person she would usually turn to in such a difficult time was the person causing all her misery. She wanted to talk things over with him. She wanted him to convince her they would be OK. But, just as he didn't know what to say, she didn't know what she wanted to hear.

On the third morning that Monica woke up alone, it took her a long time to get out of bed. She hated the mornings, when the realization of all that had happened was fresh and new.

She sat up in bed and stared absently out the window. She was pushing her engagement ring up and down her finger, as she often did when she was thinking. She glanced down at her hand and slid the ring off her finger, holding it in her palm. It was so light.

Monica was no closer to making a decision about their future that morning than she had been a few days ago. It seemed somehow wrong now to wear this ring. With a rushed motion, before she could reconsider, Monica set the ring on the night stand on Chandler's side of the bed, and got up to take a shower.

+++++

Chandler stopped by the apartment a few hours later, quietly opening the front door and sweeping a glance around the room to make sure it was empty before stepping inside. He had taken a late lunch so he could go to the apartment while Monica was at work. He needed more clothes and toiletries.

He went first to the bathroom and collected his shaving cream and another shower cap. His next step was the bedroom. Chandler filled his suitcase with fresh socks and underwear, then grabbed a few shirts and ties from his closet. He zipped up the bag and took one more glance around the room, trying not to notice the pieces of Monica that he missed so much _ the shirt she wore to bed draped over a chair, a hair clip on her nightstand, the novel she was reading, carefully book-marked and lying on her pillow. He remembered his watch was in his nightstand drawer, and moved to his side of the bed.

That was when he saw the ring.

She'd taken it off. It was lying between his alarm clock and the lamp, in front of a picture of the two of them together, laughing.

Chandler felt suddenly furious, felt so angry at seeing that ring, her ring, not on her hand. And then it struck him all at once as absurd, almost laughable if it wasn't so painful, that the situation had come to this. It was wrong. Everything was just so wrong.

Chandler reached down and carefully picked up the ring between his thumb and forefinger. He slid it onto the tip of his finger and frowned at it. Then he slipped it into his pocket, picked up his suitcase and marched out of the apartment.


	8. The Suitcase

Chandler was in such a rush to get out of the apartment that he nearly ran head-on into Joey and Phoebe in the hallway

By the time she got to work, Monica was already questioning her decision to take off the ring. She was grateful when the lunch hour was especially busy, but once the crowd had thinned and she had a lull in her work _ and time to think _ she found herself becoming increasingly heartsick.

She kept glancing at her finger, where the faint indentation of the ring just wouldn't disappear. She'd only been wearing the ring for a month or two, and already she had grown so used to its weight on her finger that she was painfully aware that it was missing now. And it felt wrong not to wear it.

It was that feeling, that longing for the ring and the comfort of it, that made Monica realize she was missing a lot more than a piece of jewelry.

It was halfway through her shift that she knew she would take Chandler back. That she could get over this trouble, that they could get over it. And with that realization she was overwhelmed with an instant relief, like waking up from a terrible nightmare and realizing that it was, in fact, just a nightmare. Of course, in this case, the nightmare was still there. But it just seemed a lot easier to deal with it head on, when she was fully awake and thinking straight. And it would be easier to deal with it if she was back with Chandler, where she belonged.

So Monica, pleased with her decision, was actually smiling as she prepared for the dinner shift, looking forward to going home and calling Chandler, imagining what she would say to him and how he would react. And then Ross showed up in her kitchen.

"Ross?" she said. "What are you doing here? Is everything OK?"

"No, it's not," he said. "We have to talk."

Ross had finally had enough of the mess between Monica and Chandler. He had vowed to stay out of their problems, to let them work this out for themselves. But just a few minutes ago he'd been sitting in his living room grading papers when Chandler had burst in, glanced at him, and walked to the guestroom, slamming the door behind him without saying a word.

Enough was enough, Ross had thought. Chandler was unhappy. Monica was unhappy. It was time to set things straight. He'd left his papers on the coffee table and gone straight to the restaurant.

"This is crazy, what's going on between you guys," he said.

"I know it is," Monica said, sighing. "But it will be over soon. I promise." She wanted to talk to Chandler before telling her brother that she planned to get back together with him.

"Why are you doing this?" Ross asked. "Why are you holding this against him?"

Monica debated her answers. She'd been asking herself that same question over the past few days, weeks even. And although she wasn't proud of her answer, she couldn't help the way she felt.

"I was embarrassed," she said.

"Embarrassed? That's what this is all about? You feel embarrassed?"

"Well, in the most simple terms, yes," she said. Monica took a deep breath and studied her fingers, stopping on the one missing the engagement ring. "The thing is, I've always been so proud of Chandler. Proud to call him my boyfriend, and then my fiancé, and then soon my husband. I'm so in love with him, every part of him. I mean, sure, sometimes his humor is a little inappropriate or annoying. I wish he could be a little more serious sometimes. But basically, and I know this sounds kind of sappy, but he was my prince, my fairy tale. He was everything I wanted. He was as close to perfect for me as anyone will ever be.

"But this accident is like a huge smudge on that, a huge stain, and I'm stuck with it. It's something I don't even want to think about. I'm ashamed of that part of him. I'm ashamed of him."

"You're ashamed of him? Mon, trust me, you don't have any idea what shame is all about. Imagine how you feel about Chandler, and then imagine how he feels about himself. It's like a thousand times worse."

"I know, but-"

"No, you don't know," Ross said. "Come on, sit down." He pulled over two stools and sat down on one of them.

"Look, I'm at work, can't this wait?"

"No, it can't wait. Chandler would probably kill me if he knew I was going to tell you this, but you deserve to know everything." Monica sat on the other stool as Ross paused and considered where to start. "First, about the accident? You know he doesn't even remember a thing about it?"

"Why, because he was too drunk?" Monica grumbled.

"No, not because he was drunk," Ross said. "He doesn't remember because he was pretty badly hurt in the crash. He broke both his legs and had a skull fracture. He was in the hospital for almost a month, he had like two surgeries. He was in physical therapy for almost his entire senior year. The thing is, he was about as much a victim in all this as anyone."

Monica had put her hand up to her mouth while Ross was talking, her eyes growing wide in shock. "Oh my God, I had no idea," she said when he was done. "But, he told us what happened. It sounded like he remembered all of it."

"Well, yeah, that's because he's replayed that entire night, what little he remembers of it and what he's been told about it, what he read in newspapers about it, he's replayed the whole thing over and over again. In his mind, he can see the whole thing happening. He can see the car coming at them and the woman screaming and even her kids and Amy. But he doesn't actually remember any of it."

"How do you know all this?"

"He told me," Ross said. "Back in college, when we were roommates. He'd recovered physically by then, but looking back, man, he was a mess. It's funny, I didn't really notice it then, because I didn't know him very well, but comparing that Chandler to the one we know now, wow, it's like two totally different people."

"Really? How?"

"It's kind of hard to describe. He was a lot moodier. And he was always sarcastic, but it wasn't really funny then. It was meaner, and colder. He didn't laugh a lot or smile very often. He kept to himself a lot. We never would've become friends if we hadn't lived together."

Monica nodded her head slowly and stared unfocused across the room.

"There's more," Ross said. "About halfway through our freshman year, I still didn't know anything about the accident, I found him on this sort of rooftop garden thing, on top of our dorm. He was sitting on the wall, his legs dangling over the edge. I thought he was going to jump."

"He tried to kill himself?"

Ross shook his head. "I don't know. I honestly don't know if that's what he would've done if I hadn't shown up. But he was thinking about it. That was when he told me everything. We stayed up like all night, and he told me everything about the accident, and man, I've never seen anyone so upset. I was so freaked out. He was crying and sobbing and yelling and, I don't know, it was like he'd never talked to anyone about it before. Maybe he hadn't."

"He was lucky to have you," Monica said softly.

"Yeah, I guess," Ross said. "Anyway, I talked him into seeing a counselor the next day. He went into therapy for awhile after that. It seemed to help."

"I had no idea," Monica said, her eyes filling with tears. She felt overwhelmed with guilt. It was like she'd been punishing Chandler for the past few days for something he already felt terrible about, something he'd already beaten himself up over years ago. Something that had been dealt with long ago. "God, am I a horrible person? I can't believe how I acted toward him. I just didn't know."

"No, Mon, don't feel bad. That's not why I told you all this," Ross said, standing up to hug her. She immediately burst into tears in his arms. "You were totally justified in the way you've felt about the accident. I understand it, and so does Chandler. It was terrible what happened. You can't help the way you feel."

"But it's like I turned my back on him. Like I rejected him," Monica said, her voice muffled in Ross's shirt.

"No, it's not. Not yet, anyway," Ross said.

"I wasn't going to say anything, not until after I could talk to Chandler, but I already decided that I want him, that I love him and I want to marry him," Monica said.

"Really? Oh, Mon, that's great. That's great. God, I'm so glad," Ross said, and hugged her again. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I think so," Monica said, letting go of him and wiping her nose and cheeks with a dishtowel. "So, you've known about all this since college?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you, but it really wasn't my place to say anything."

"No, of course not. I know," Monica said. "But thanks, you know, for telling me now."

"I thought you needed to know," he said. "So, um, are you going to call him right away? Tell him the good news?"

"God, I want to, I want to clear this up right now, but I don't want to talk to him over the phone, and there's no one to cover my shift here. Can you help me out? Tell him to come over tonight?"

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

+++++

Chandler was gone by the time Ross got home, so he went back to grading papers. He was barely five minutes into the task when Rachel showed up at his door.

"Oh, are you busy?" Rachel said when she saw the stacks of papers on his coffee table. She didn't wait for his answer before making herself comfortable on the couch.

"I'm not getting much work done anyway," Ross said, throwing his pen on the table. "It's kind of hard to concentrate, you know, with everything that's going on with Chandler and Monica."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Rachel said.

"But you know, I think they'll be all right," Ross said. "I talked to Monica today, and it sounds like she's gonna go back to him."

"Ross, that's great," Rachel said, and leaned up against him on the couch. He gladly pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair gently, and they sat in comfortable silence. "This is bad," Rachel said after a few minutes. Ross hugged her and kissed her head.

"No, really, I talked to Monica today, and I really think she's gonna go back to him. They'll be OK, Rach."

"No, Ross, I know," Rachel said. "But that's not what I meant."

"Huh?"

"I meant this is bad. Us. We're bad," Rachel said, brushing her hand across the arm wrapped around her chest.

"Really? Does this make you uncomfortable?" Ross asked, pulling away from her. She grabbed onto his hand to hold him to her.

"No, this is great, nice. But that's the problem," she said, and Ross suddenly understood. "This is exactly what I was afraid of," Rachel said. "I knew bonus night was a bad idea for us."

"No," Ross sighed. "Bonus night was a great idea. Bonus month, that might've been pushing it."

Rachel laughed gently, but quickly grew serious again.

"I don't know what to do, Ross. I'm just not ready for this yet. I don't know what I want."

"But you don't want me."

"No, no, that's not it at all," Rachel said, turning to face him. "It's us. That's what I'm not sure about. We've been through all this so many times before. I don't know if I can do it again. At least, not right now."

Ross nodded and looked away.

"What about you?" she asked. "What do you want?"

"Well it doesn't really matter, does it? You've kind of decided for both of us."

"Of course it matters," she said. "I want to know what you think."

Ross sighed. "I want you to be happy."

Rachel smiled at him, rested a hand on his cheek and kissed him once on the mouth. "I'm sorry," she said. Ross shrugged and nodded.

"I should get going," Rachel said, and stood up. Ross got up to walk her to the door. She stopped suddenly as she was reaching for the doorknob and turned around.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, laughing. "I didn't come here to see you."

"And now the rejection is complete," Ross muttered.

"I think I left my bra here the other day. Have you seen it lying around?"

"No," he said. "Where'd you leave it?"

"Well, it was the day we did it on your grandmother's dresser." Rachel paused and smiled wistfully as she recalled that afternoon, then shook her head to clear the image. "So, um, I guess it's in the guestroom."

"Go ahead and look," Ross said. He followed her to the spare bedroom and watched from the doorway as she searched the room, opening the closets and looking behind the dresser before she finally found it under the bed.

"Got it," she said, standing up from the floor. She took one more look around the room. "Um, Ross? Isn't Chandler sleeping in here?"

"Yeah," Ross said.

"Well, where's all his stuff?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's nothing here," Rachel said, looking around the room again. Ross could see that she was right. The closet was bare, and when Rachel opened the drawers in the dresser, he saw those were also empty, save for a condom wrapper that he immediately grabbed and threw away. Ross went to the bathroom and saw that all of Chandler's stuff there was gone.

"He left," Ross said.

"Maybe he went home," Rachel suggested. "You said things were looking better, right? Maybe they made up."

"I don't think so," Ross said. "Monica said she wasn't going to talk to him until tonight."

"You don't think he ran away, do you?"

Ross shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. But he looked pretty upset when he came home this afternoon. That was why I went to talk to Monica."

"Well we should find him. Where would he go?"

"Rach, I don't know."

"God, what if he ran away? What are we going to tell Monica?"

"He went out for frozen yogurt?"

+++++

Monica lasted barely 30 minutes after Ross left her kitchen before she decided that she couldn't wait through the rest of her shift to talk to Chandler. She had to find him right away. She had to set things straight. She couldn't concentrate on a thing but him, and her heart raced with anxiety every time she thought about what Ross had told her.

She told the restaurant owner that she had a family emergency and was on her way home 45 minutes after her conversation with Ross. She wanted to stop by the apartment first to retrieve her ring, and then she would find Chandler. As she walked through the front door, she didn't even stop to set down her keys or her purse before racing to her bedroom, already planning what she would say to Chandler.

She saw immediately that the ring was gone. She remembered where she'd set it down that morning, in front of the picture of them. In a split second she was frantic.

"No," she moaned. "No, no, no." She was on her knees, searching the floor around the nightstand, sweeping her arms under the bed. She threw back the bed covers, shook the pillows, picked up everything on the nightstand to look underneath. She knew exactly where she'd left it, but it was gone. Monica didn't believe in signs, but losing her engagement ring at a time like this couldn't be good.

She was tearing through her dresser now, losing all control as she tossed aside Chandler's socks and her underwear. She went back to the nightstand, pulling it away from the wall, and in the sudden movement knocked over the lamp and sent it tumbling to the floor. The crash was loud enough to get the attention of Joey and Phoebe in the other bedroom.

They ran to Monica's doorway and stopped to watch her frenzied search _ Joey dressed only in boxers, Phoebe in skimpy lingerie.

"Monica?" Phoebe said. "Monica? Monica! What's wrong? Are you feeling dirty again? Do you need a Tic Tac?"

"Or two?" Joey asked.

"My ring," Monica said, barely looking up at them and not noticing their unusual attire. "It's my ring. It's gone."

"You lost it?" Joey asked.

"No! I don't lose things," Monica yelled, her voice cracking. "It's just gone."

"Maybe someone borrowed it," Phoebe suggested.

"My engagement ring?" Monica said, throwing more clothes out of the dresser now. "Who would borrow my engagement ring? Did you borrow my engagement ring?"

"You took it off?" Joey asked. "Why would you do that?"

"I took it off this morning," Monica said frantically. "I put it down right over there, and now I have to find it. I have to put it back on and go to him. I can't see him without the ring."

"Oh God," Phoebe said suddenly, covering her mouth with her hands.

"What?" Joey asked.

"Chandler. He was here today."

"What?" Monica said, stopping suddenly with fistfuls of panties in each hand. "He was here? When?"

"This afternoon," Phoebe said.

"He was in the apartment? Did he go in our room?"

"I don't know," Phoebe said. "Joey and I were coming up the stairs, and we saw him in the hallway on his way out."

"Oh my God, what if he saw the ring?" Monica asked. "He knows I wasn't wearing it. When you saw him, how was he?"

Joey and Phoebe looked at each other before answering. "He was pretty upset," Joey said.

"We didn't really think anything of it, because he's been kind of like that all week," Phoebe said.

"Yeah, but this was definitely different," Joey added. "He seemed angry. He didn't even talk to us."

"Oh my God," Monica said. "What have I done?"

Ross and Rachel came bounding through the front door in the next second. They stopped to stare in shock at Joey and Phoebe.

"What are you wearing?" Ross asked.

"You never mind that," Phoebe said, moving to Monica and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Ross noticed then that Monica was crying.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Monica's engagement ring is gone, and we think Chandler took it," Joey said.

"What? How did that happen?" Ross asked.

"I took it off this morning," Monica said thickly through her tears. "And Phoebe and Joey said they saw him here this afternoon, and now it's gone. I can't find it anywhere."

"Why did you take your ring off?" Ross asked. "I thought you were OK."

"I wasn't this morning," Monica said. "I was so confused. I, it, it seemed like the best thing to do then." She finished the sentence in a sob, and Phoebe held her.

"So I take it Chandler isn't here," Rachel said slowly. "Then where is he?"

Monica looked up suddenly. "What do you mean? You don't know where he is?"

"All his stuff is gone," Ross said. "His suitcase, I think he packed it all up and left."

Monica rubbed at her eyes. "Maybe he just went back to work. Maybe he's coming back here tonight. He, he decided to come home."

"Honey, we called his office and they said he didn't come back after lunch," Rachel said, and moved to join Phoebe in rubbing Monica's back. "We don't know where he is."

"Well, we have to find him," Monica said wildly. "I have to see him. I have to talk to him now." She sprinted toward the door, and then turned when she saw no one was following her. "Come on!"

"Mon, where are we gonna look?" Ross asked.

"He could be anywhere," Phoebe said.

"Honey, I know you want to find him, but I'm-"

"I don't care," Monica yelled. "I'm going out there, and I'm going to find him. You can all help me or not, but I'm going." She turned and left the apartment. Everyone followed her.

"Um, Phoebs, Joey, don't you guys want to put on some clothes?" Rachel asked when they stepped into the hallway.

"Oh, right," Phoebe said, and turned around.

"You know, speaking of-"

"Rachel! We have more important things to think about now than why you're turned on by my incredibly sexy body," Phoebe chastised. "Now go! We'll catch up to you."

+++++

Chandler was hunched on a bench outside the Port Authority, his suitcase on his lap and a bus ticket in his pocket. He was chain-smoking in the unbearably hot, humid night air. The bus station made him feel dirty and queasy, or maybe that was the cigarettes and the heat. But the people here all looked like they were about as lonely as he felt, walking alone, ragged backpacks dangling from their shoulders with all their belongings inside.

His bus was leaving any time now.

He wasn't sure why exactly he'd ended up at the bus station. When he'd seen the ring, his first instinct had been to run, to get away from this mess as fast as possible. He'd packed up his things and ran out of Ross's apartment, but as soon as he hit the street, he lost all of his determination. Running seemed like such a bad idea, but he didn't know what other options were left.

So he walked. He wandered mostly aimlessly for awhile, not paying much attention to where he was going, focused entirely on the ring in his pocket and the woman who had been wearing it. When he finally looked up at a street sign, he realized he was close to the bus station. And so he thought he'd leave town.

That had always been Chandler's plan, to leave the city altogether if anything bad ever happened to him and Monica. It wasn't that he liked planning for such an event, or expected anything bad to happen, but he couldn't help but worry sometimes. He considered himself so lucky to have found Monica. It was natural to think how miserable he'd be if he lost her.

And here he was. He'd always suspected that his past, that one horrible night, might catch up with him one day. But in recent years, he'd started to think maybe not. That maybe he was safe. He couldn't have been more wrong. Now he was faced with truly leaving Monica and his friends and, really, his whole life, for good. He would get on a bus and watch the city pass before his eyes and finally disappear behind him. He wouldn't even say goodbye.

"Bus No. 451, No. 451, to Topeka, is boarding at terminal B. No. 451 to Topeka is boarding at terminal B."

That was Chandler's bus. He took the ticket out of one pocket, and the ring out of the other, and stared at them both for a moment. Then he stood up and walked into the crowd.

+++++

Ross thought he was the first to get back from searching for Chandler. When he returned to Chandler and Monica's apartment it was nearly midnight. The lights were out and the place felt empty. They had split up as soon as they left the building, each person searching a handful of places Chandler may have run to. Ross wasn't hopeful of finding his friend, and he didn't think anyone but Monica was either. He was exhausted now. He felt tired and dirty from searching the city for more than five hours.

"Monica?" Ross called softly as he pushed open the door to her bedroom. He wasn't surprised to see that she still gone, although the mess in the room shocked him. Phoebe had told them about her frenzied search for the ring. Monica must have been in a total panic.

Phoebe's bedroom was also dark, so Ross went to Joey's apartment, hoping to find Rachel. Her bedroom door was ajar, but it was dark inside, so he knocked softly and called her name. There was no response, but from the light in the living room, he could tell that someone was in her bed.

"Hey, Rach," Ross whispered, entering her room and closing the door behind him, casting the room in total darkness. He made his way carefully across the floor, stumbling into the bed, then sitting down next to her. He reached a hand out to stroke her hair. He knew he should stay away from her after what she'd said this afternoon, but he also suspected she wouldn't object to just one more bonus night. A bonus night to mark the end of their bonus month, perhaps. Anyway, he was willing to give it a shot.

"What do you say, Rach? Just one more time?" he asked softly.

"Mmmm," she moaned, and grabbed his hand, pulling him toward her. Yup, she was definitely game. He smiled and leaned in to kiss her, dragging his hand slowly down her arm, under the blanket. She was naked underneath. He smiled to himself.

Ross pulled his T-shirt over his head, and tugged off his shoes and finally his pants, then pulled the blanket back so he could lie with her. He ran his fingers over her bare back and kissed her neck, then moved to suck gently at her ear. She giggled softly.

"Joey, that tickles," she laughed. Ross jumped.

"Joey?" he yelled. He reached over Rachel to turn on her bedside lamp, and saw that it wasn't Rachel at all. "Phoebe?!"

"Mmmm, don't stop," Phoebe mumbled.

"Phoebe, what are you doing here?" Ross said, jumping out of bed and taking the blanket with him. Phoebe was suddenly lying totally naked in front of him. "Oh my God, you're naked. You're Phoebe, and you're naked." He covered his eyes.

"Ross?" Phoebe said, finally opening her eyes and looking dazed. "Ross? What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first! What are you doing in Rachel's bed?"

Phoebe looked down then, saw that she was naked, and saw that he was standing over her covering himself. She grabbed the blanket back from Ross and wrapped it around herself, ignoring his sudden embarrassment at standing there in only his boxers.

"I was asleep," Phoebe said.

"Yes, I know that. But naked? And in Rachel's bed?"

Phoebe sighed. "Doesn't anyone know me at all? I always sleep naked."

"I thought you napped naked."

"It doesn't matter! It's all sleeping."

"Why are you in Rachel's room?"

"Because Joey's in mine."

"Why is Joey in your room?"

"Because, well, that doesn't matter. But he snores, so I couldn't sleep there."

"Why didn't you just sleep in his bed?"

"Because Rachel's smells better."

"Why-"

"No, no, my turn!" Phoebe said. "What are you doing climbing into Rachel's bed like that?"

"Because, well-" Ross was saved by a shriek coming from across the hall.

+++++

Rachel arrived at Monica and Chandler's apartment just a few minutes after Ross had left. She also saw that Monica was still gone, but she was too wired and too upset from the frustrating search for Chandler to go to bed, so she thought she'd see if Phoebe was up to talking.

Phoebe's door was slightly open and dark inside, so she was probably asleep. Rachel pushed the door open further, peeked inside, and saw that Phoebe was indeed in bed already. She was about to close the door when a deep snore caught her attention. That wasn't Phoebe.

Rachel laughed softly to herself and figured that Joey and Phoebe had probably hooked up again. But another glance at the bed showed that only one person was sleeping there. Rachel took one more confused look around the bedroom, wondering who was asleep in Phoebe's bed. That was when she noticed Ross's jacket, cast in a narrow strip of light from the living room, hanging over a chair near the door. So it was Ross. She smiled and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She didn't think Ross would mind just one more bonus night.

She wondered briefly why Ross would be sleeping in Phoebe's room, but figured that Phoebe had let him crash here so he could be nearby when Monica came home. Which meant Joey and Phoebe were probably sleeping together across the hall, Rachel thought, and smiled to herself.

"Ross," Rachel said softly as she neared the bed. "Ross. It's me. You awake?" Another soft snore came from the bed. Rachel sat down next to Ross and took off her sandals, then slid her shirt over her head. She left her bra on. For now.

"Ross? You wanna wake up for me?" Rachel leaned over him and touched his face in the near-total darkness. She kissed his nose and his closed eyes, then reached under the covers to stroke his chest. She could feel him smiling in his sleep as she kissed his mouth.

Rachel reached further under the covers and was surprised to find that Ross was naked in bed. He rarely slept naked, even when they were together. But it was still awfully hot outside, so maybe he just wanted to cool off. Too bad, Rachel thought. Cooling off wasn't what she had in mind.

She scooted down the bed and planted soft kisses on his chest, then his stomach, moving down to his thighs. As she started kissing her way back up his thighs, he mumbled softly in his sleep.

"Mmmm, Phoebe, how you doin'?"

"Joey!" Rachel screamed. "Joey! You're Joey!" She shrieked and jumped off the bed, falling to the floor. Joey sat up and fumbled in the darkness, trying to figure out where exactly he was. And he'd been having such a nice dream.

"Rachel?" Ross yelled as he burst into the apartment, having heard her shriek. He was walking lopsided, pulling his pants up as he walked. Phoebe was right behind him, tying a bathrobe around her.

Rachel ran out of Phoebe's room screaming, buttoning up her shirt. "Oh my God, Joey. I just, I just, I almost, oh my God!"

"Rachel, what's wrong?" Ross asked, just as Joey followed Rachel out of Phoebe's bedroom.

"What's going on?" Joey asked sleepily, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. He'd managed to drag his boxers back on and was pulling on the jacket he'd borrowed from Ross. "Did someone find Chandler?"

"No, but Ross just tried to sleep with me," Phoebe said.

"What?" Joey yelled, suddenly wide awake.

"I did not," Ross said. "I thought you were Ra-, um, someone else."

"You slept with Phoebe?" Rachel asked.

"What were you doing with Joey?" Ross asked.

"Yeah, what were you doing with Joey?" Joey asked.

They all stopped when they heard the front door slam. Monica had returned.

"He's gone," she said miserably. "I, I can't, Chandler's gone."

After all of the recent screaming, the following silence was almost unbearable. Phoebe was the first to recover. She moved to Monica's side and enveloped her in a hug.

"I'm sorry," Phoebe said. "But I'm sure he'll show up."

"Phoebe's right," Ross said. "He'll come back when he's ready."

"Honey, he loves you. He'll be back," Rachel said.

"Yeah, he's probably just at The Lusty Lady, thinking things over," Joey said.

Monica perked up. "The Lusty Lady?"

"Sure, it's a strip club. That's the best place to go when you're feeling down about something."

"Chandler goes to The Lusty Lady?" she asked.

Joey looked suddenly nervous. "Well, not for the girls," he said. "He, um, he goes for the chicken wings."

"Joey," Rachel chastised.

"OK, I'm the one that goes for the chicken wings," Joey admitted. "Chandler and Ross go for the girls."

"Ross!" Rachel yelled.

"Joey," Ross hissed.

"Wait," Monica said, and backed away from Phoebe. "He goes to The Lusty Lady? I didn't check The Lusty Lady. Maybe that's where he is. I'm going there."

"Mon, are you sure? It's really late, and we checked the whole city," Rachel said. "At least, it seems like we did."

"Not there. I didn't look there," Monica said, and raced toward the door. She was running full speed by the time she hit the hallway, and she never even saw Chandler before she hit him head on. He was caught completely by surprise, and stumbled backwards, his suitcase flying into a corner and his head whipping against the edge of the wall. He fell hard to the floor.

"Oh my God," Monica said, stopping where he had fallen. "Chandler's back."


	9. The End

It was well after midnight before Chandler and Monica had the place to themselves

"Oh, God, Chandler, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you."

Monica crouched at Chandler's side, resting a hand on his shoulder, and studied his face. He groaned and tried to shift to a more comfortable position. He had landed with his head pinned at an awkward angle against the hallway wall, the rest of his body sprawled on the floor.

"What happened?" Joey asked as everyone else piled out of the apartment, having heard the crash outside. "Chandler?"

"Oh my God, Monica beat up Chandler," Phoebe yelled.

"I didn't beat him up," Monica said. "I ran into him and he fell. Now come on, he's bleeding. Help me get him up."

"No, I'm fine. I can get up," Chandler said, raising himself to a sitting position. He swept his fingers gingerly over his forehead, feeling blood over his right eyebrow.

"Don't touch it," Monica said, swiping his hand away. "Come on, let's get you inside."

Joey and Monica each grabbed a hand and pulled Chandler to his feet. The group moved back into the apartment and settled Chandler in his recliner. Rachel handed Monica a towel and some ice.

"Don't use the fancy towel," Phoebe said in a panic. She looked on in shock as Monica paid no attention to the towel and quickly pressed it to Chandler's head. He winced and tried to take it from her.

"Just keep that in place. You might need stitches," Monica said.

"I don't need stitches. I'm fine," Chandler said. He grabbed her hand and moved it away from his face. Rejected, Monica dropped her hand and sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"Hey, it's OK," he said. "I'm fine. Really. It's just a scratch."

"No, not about that," Monica said. "Everything. I'm sorry."

Chandler was quiet. Monica stole a glance at him, and saw that he looked terrible. His hair stuck up in odd places, his tie hung loosely around his neck, his shirt was wrinkled, pulled halfway out of his pants. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, lined with dark, bruised circles.

Now that he was sitting here in front of her, she felt overwhelmed with everything she wanted to say to him. She didn't know where to begin. She tugged absently at her ring finger, and then, afraid she would just draw his attention to the missing ring, folded her hands in her lap.

Chandler didn't notice her anxiety. He had enough of his own. He, too, knew what he wanted to say to her, knew what had brought him back here, but facing Monica now, he didn't know if he could go through with it.

"We should probably get out of here," Ross whispered to the rest of his friends, who were gathered in the kitchen.

"Sshh, I can't hear what they're saying," Rachel said.

"That's because they aren't even talking," Ross said.

"No, I think Chandler's lips are moving," Phoebe said.

Ross cleared his throat. "Um, we'll all be in the next room," he called out to Chandler and Monica. Phoebe and Rachel groaned, but allowed Ross and Joey to usher them out of the room.

"Chandler-" Monica started when their friends had cleared out.

"No. Stop," Chandler said, holding up a hand.

"Please, let me-"

"Monica, wait. Please," he said. "There's something I have to say." Monica froze, then nodded for him to continue.

"I am so sorry about all of this, about everything that's happened," he said. He wanted to look away, to avoid seeing anything on her face that he was afraid of, but he forced himself to lock eyes with her.

"I know you said you needed time to think, that you had to clear up some doubts-"

"Chandler-"

"No, let me finish. Please," he said. "I want to give you that space, I've tried, but I can't. I won't. I have spent my whole life looking for someone like you. Actually, that's not quite true. I spent most of my life thinking I'd never have someone like you. That, that I'd never be in love like this, and that even if I did, no one would return it. I didn't think I deserved someone like you."

Chandler paused. He was crying now, but he didn't care. So was she. He wiped the tears from his face with the sleeve of his shirt, and took a deep, shaking breath before continuing.

"The thing is, Monica, maybe I don't deserve someone like you. But I don't care. When I'm with you, I know that I'm the luckiest person in the world. Nothing else matters. And now that I've had that, there's no way I'll let go. I will not give up on us. So I guess what I'm saying is, I'm sorry, but you're stuck with me."

Before she could say anything, Chandler dropped to his knees in front of her. He reached into his pocket and took out her engagement ring. She saw it and gasped, and now the tears were running freely down her cheeks.

"Monica, marry me. Please."

Monica nodded before she could speak. "Yes."

Chandler was too shocked at first to react to her reply. He'd prepared himself for her to say no.

"Really?" She nodded again. "Are you sure?"

"Dammit, yes," she said, smiling even as her voice caught on a sob.

He slid the ring back onto her finger, and they fell into a sloppy embrace, clutching to each other, breathing hard as they cried together. Chandler reached a hand up to the back of Monica's head, pulling away from her just enough to stare into her face before kissing her greedily. She slid into his arms on the floor, sitting in his lap as they went on kissing.

"Have you been smoking?" she asked when they finally ended the kiss.

"Can we talk about it later?" Monica smiled and nodded, burying her face in his chest. He rocked her slowly in his arms.

"I'm so sorry," Monica mumbled into his shirt after a few minutes.

"What do you have to be sorry for?" Chandler said back to her, his wet cheek pressed against her hair.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more supportive," she said. "When you told me. I'm sorry I reacted so badly."

"Mon, I'd be kinda worried if you hadn't reacted like that," he said. They were quiet for a moment, content to just hold each other on the floor.

"I thought you'd really left me tonight," Monica said, her voice soft. "I looked everywhere for you."

"Really? Everywhere? Even The Lusty Lady?"

"Just about."

Chandler looked thoughtful, imagining Monica searching for him all over the city. "Well, I really was going to leave. Had the bus ticket and everything."

"But you didn't. You came back."

"Yeah, well, I realized, you're the best thing I've got in my life, and I'd be the dumbest person in the world to let that go," he said, pausing to kiss her forehead. "So, I pretty much figured I'd just stalk you for the rest of your life, well, until they sent me to prison anyway. And then I'd just send you scary love letters every day, until you moved or changed your name, and-"

"Got it," Monica said, kissing him on the mouth to stop him from talking. They grew quiet again. "You know, Ross told me about college. About what you went through."

"Oh," Chandler said, reaching for Monica's hand and toying with her ring. "Yeah, that was kind of a difficult time."

"He also told me that you were injured in the accident."

"Again, not a very pleasant time."

"You thought you deserved it."

"Well, didn't I?" he asked, squeezing the ring between his fingers.

"I don't know," Monica said honestly. "I guess bad things just happen. But I want you to know, no matter what happens, I'm always here for you."

"Thanks," he said, and kissed her cheek. "Hey, there's something I want to show you."

He gently shifted Monica off of his lap, then got up slowly and took her hand, leading her into their bedroom. He paused when he saw the mess in their room, raising a curious eyebrow in her direction, but decided to leave that discussion for later.

Chandler sat her on the end of their bed then stepped carefully across the room, avoiding the clothes and shoes that littered the floor, and crouched down in front of the closet. He pulled a box from the back and dug to the bottom of it, finally retrieving a thin photo album. He stood up and walked back to the bed, sitting on the end of it next to Monica. He set the photo album in her lap. When she looked up at him, confused, he opened the first page for her. Monica looked down at the top photo and laughed.

"Is that you?"

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "I actually had long hair for almost all of junior year. That was in my Whitesnake phase."

"You had a Whitesnake phase?"

"Didn't everyone? I used to actually blow dry my hair."

"Are you wearing acid-washed jeans?"

"Sure. You can't see it, but there's also a huge rip in the ass. That was cool, you know."

"That was never cool," Monica said. "Who are the other guys?"

"Well, that's Kit," Chandler said, pointing to the teen on his left. "He was so skinny and had like the worst acne."

"Guess that explains the beard now," Monica said.

"Yeah," Chandler agreed. He pointed to the next kid, who looked about a foot shorter than the rest and four years younger. "That's Vic."

"So he just never got that growth spurt. Poor thing," Monica said. "Who's that?" She pointed to the last person.

"Kirk," Chandler said.

"Oh. He's really cute."

"Yeah, he was," Chandler said. "He was one of those guys that all the girls liked, but he was totally awkward and shy around them, so he never got anywhere. He was always, you know, making really stupid jokes to try to impress them or something, but they just thought he was lame."

Monica smiled. "Sounds like someone else I know."

"Are you kidding? I would've killed for his technique," Chandler said. "I just lost all control of my tongue when I talked to girls. The inappropriate humor thing came later."

Chandler and Monica spent close to an hour flipping through his photo album, mostly laughing at the old pictures of him. Monica had never seen photos of him at this age, and Chandler, who had kept the album with him since high school, hadn't actually looked at the photos in 15 years. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed the pictures, and how much fun it was to share them with Monica. He had always figured it would be painful, even traumatic, to remember anything from that time. Instead, he was laughing more now than he had in a month.

When they got to the end, Chandler closed the album and held it in his lap, folding his hands on top of it. Monica rested a hand on top of his.

"Thank you for that," she said. "It meant a lot to me."

"Yeah, me too," Chandler said, and smiled at her.

"I just wish you could've told me all this sooner," Monica said.

"I know. I should have."

"Yes, you should have," Monica said. "And not because I had a right to know, but because that's what people who love each other do, they support each other, and they allow themselves to be supported. I realize I wasn't exactly the best example of that at first. I mean, it took me some time to come around. But Chandler, I'm really here for you, OK?"

He smiled. "OK."

"Good," she said. "Now kiss me some more. We haven't had nearly enough of that lately."

Chandler smiled and obliged.

+++++

An hour later Monica and Chandler sat on the living room couch, wrapped in each other's arms and surrounded by their friends. Monica had patched up Chandler's face, and he now had a crisp bandage on his forehead and a bruise blooming around his eye _ the right eye, this time. It was late, and everyone was exhausted, but after such a welcome end to an agonizing day, no one wanted to go to bed just yet.

"So you guys heard everything tonight?" Chandler asked. "You could actually hear us through the front door?"

"Sure, because Rachel left it open," Ross said, sitting next to Rachel on the couch and giving her a reproachful stare.

"It was totally worth it," Phoebe said, tucked into Chandler's recliner.

"Yeah, I mean, Chandler, three proposals?" Rachel said.

"I just like hearing Monica say the word yes," Chandler said, smiling at his fiancée.

"Yes," she said, grinning back at him.

"There it is," Chandler said, and kissed her on the nose.

Rachel groaned and rolled her eyes. "Seriously, Chandler, you've proposed so many times, you're like tied with Ross now."

"Actually, he's one up on me," Ross said. "I never proposed to you."

"Not that you remember, anyway," Rachel said.

"So, dude, you were really going to go to Topeka?" Joey asked. "Where is that anyway? Is that a real place? Were you just tricking us again?"

"It's in Kansas, Joey," Ross said. "And yeah, why Topeka?"

"I don't know, I guess it was just the first bus out of town," Chandler said. "I wasn't really thinking straight."

"Hey, Kansas, maybe you were thinking like Dorothy, you know, in 'The Wizard of Oz,'" Phoebe said. "'There's no place like home, there's no place like home.'"

"Except for Chandler, home was here, and Kansas was, well, not home," Rachel said.

"Oh. Yeah," Phoebe said. "Unless Chandler lied about that too, and he's actually really from Kansas. You lied, didn't you? Didn't you?!"

"No, I'm not from Kansas," Chandler said.

"OK, then yeah, my theory doesn't work," Phoebe said.

"So, back to you guys listening in on our like most personal conversation ever," Chandler said, twirling a strand of Monica's hair around a finger. "Don't we have any privacy around here?"

"Oh, what are you complaining about?" Rachel grumbled. "At least you guys are a happy couple again."

"Yeah, they're not the only ones," Joey said, yawning and leaning back against a pillow on the floor.

"What?" Ross asked.

"What was that?" Rachel said.

Joey looked up in surprise. He hadn't meant to let that slip. "Um-"

Rachel smiled slyly. "Are you talking about you and Phoebe?"

Joey's eyes widened in shock, and he and Phoebe exchanged a glance.

"No," he said. "I was talking about you and Ross."

"What?" Rachel and Ross said at the same time. Everyone else just nodded knowingly.

"What, does everyone know about us?" Ross asked, looking around the room.

"Ross!" Rachel hissed.

"Uh huh," Phoebe said.

"Oh yeah," Joey said.

"Yup," Chandler said.

"That's right," Monica said.

"Wait," Rachel said. "You all know about me and Ross?"

"Yeah, I walked in on you guys doing it here on the couch," Phoebe said.

"Me too," Joey said.

"Ew," Monica moaned, and shifted toward the edge of the couch.

"And you guys remember when I walked in on you," Chandler said, laughing as Monica practically jumped in his lap to try to examine the couch cushions.

"Yeah, and I walked in on you doing it in Joey's barca lounger," Monica said.

"So let me get this straight," Ross said. "Not only do all of you know about us, but you've all actually seen us doing it?" He grimaced as he finished his question.

"Oh yeah," everyone said.

"Oh my God. Oh my God. This is so humiliating," Rachel groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"More humiliating than what you did to me tonight?" Joey asked.

"What?" Monica and Chandler said at the same time.

"Nothing. It's a very long story," Rachel said, sending a furious glare to Joey.

"So, um, about you and Ross," Joey said, sensing that he should avoid talking about what had happened in Phoebe's room. "Rachel, there's nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, you looked hot. Even with Ross you looked hot." Rachel and Ross glared at him.

"Come on, Joey's right," Phoebe said. "Well, not about you looking hot, although, now that I think about it, you kinda did. But anyway, you shouldn't be embarrassed. I think it's great that you guys are back together."

"Actually," Ross said, and looked at Rachel thoughtfully.

"We're not," she finished for him.

"What do you mean? We all saw you," Chandler said.

"Way too much of you," Monica added.

"Yeah, we were just, you know," Ross stammered.

"Bonus night," Rachel said.

"That's one hell of a long night," Chandler said.

"Look, it doesn't matter, we're not doing it anymore," Rachel said.

"We're not?" Ross asked. Rachel jabbed him in the ribs. "Yes, we're not."

"That's right," Rachel said. "And we're not back together. It was just, you know, a fling."

"Right," Chandler said. "A fling."

"Uh huh," Phoebe said.

"Sure," Joey said.

"Seriously," Rachel insisted. "It's over now. We're not getting back together."

"OK, Rachel, whatever you say," Monica said, smiling indulgently at her.

"So, um, Rach, what'd you mean about Phoebe and Joey?" Chandler asked. He kissed the top of Monica's head and wrapped both arms around her, enjoying being close to her again.

"Oh, that!" Rachel said, thrilled at the prospect of not only changing the topic, but also sharing some gossip. "You two," she said, waving a finger between Joey and Phoebe, "have been getting it on, haven't you?"

Joey and Phoebe exchanged a look over the coffee table.

"What are you talking about?" Joey asked.

"Yeah, what kind of pornographic fairy tales have you been making up?" Phoebe asked.

"Come on," Rachel said. "Don't deny it. I saw Phoebe naked in your room the other day."

"You think we're sleeping together because of that?" Phoebe asked. "I told you, I always nap naked."

"That is true," Chandler said, smiling for a second then quickly frowning before Monica could notice.

"You know, I agree the naked nap isn't very good evidence," Monica said. "But I did hear some highly suspicious foreplay talk coming from Joey's room a few days ago."

"That's right!" Rachel yelled triumphantly. "Ha! And what about the lingerie, Phoebe? Why were you in your room with Joey wearing lingerie?"

"OK, fine," Phoebe said, shrugging at the surprised look on Joey's face.

"That's right, we admit it," Joey said, sitting up straight. "Phoebe and I are having sex. We were tired of all the dirty secrets and decided to make one of our own."

"But it's no big deal," Phoebe said. "It was just like you guys."

"Uh huh. A bonus night," Joey said.

"Wait, you guys can't have a bonus night," Rachel said. "That's not fair. You have to be dating to have a bonus night."

"Really?" Joey asked.

"I've never heard that rule before," Phoebe said.

"Oh please, that's the whole point of the bonus night," Rachel said, exasperated. "It's like your last shot. The grand finale."

"Hey, yeah, that kinda makes sense," Phoebe said. "Hmm, so we'd have to date to have a bonus night."

"Interesting," Joey said, a thoughtful look on his face as he leaned back into his pillow.

+++++

It was nearly 3 a.m. before Chandler and Monica had the place to themselves. Phoebe was spending the night at Ross's so they could have some privacy. They walked their friends to the door and said goodnight, then walked hand-in-hand to their bedroom. Chandler stopped suddenly when they were confronted with the mess there, and cast a worried frown at Monica.

"So, you want to tell me what this was all about?" he said.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

"Um, OK. But we should probably clean it up now, right?"

Monica sighed deeply. She looked at him and realized how exhausted he was, his face drawn and his eyes drooping. She probably didn't look much better.

"We can take care of that tomorrow too," she said, and walked to the bed, picking her way around piles of clothes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, still standing in the doorway. The room really was a disaster.

"Yeah. Come on. Let's go to bed." He didn't argue with her. If she could ignore the mess in their bedroom, she must be nearly asleep on her feet.

In fact, they both felt drained, as though they hadn't had a decent sleep or even a pleasant thought in weeks. And that wasn't far from the truth. They sat side by side on the bed, Chandler tugging off his shoes and sliding the tie over his head, Monica unbuttoning her shirt. When he had stripped to the boxers he planned to wear to bed and she had pulled on a simple nightgown, they got under the rumpled covers and turned out the lights.

"So, are we really OK?" Chandler asked in the darkness. He didn't want to go to sleep without her reassurance.

"Yes, we are," she said. Chandler raised himself on an elbow so he could look down into her face, just making out her features in the faint glow of a streetlight. He reached out a hand and touched her face, tracing her eyes and her nose and her jaw.

"I'm glad you know," he said.

"You are?"

"Yes. It's out in the open now. I don't have anything else to hide."

"You better not," she teased lightly. He kissed her softly for a moment then leaned back, stroking her hair.

"I thought you hated me," he said after a moment of silence. "I thought you'd never forgive me."

"I never hated you," she said earnestly, reaching up a hand to pull his face closer to hers. "I never stopped loving you. And I don't think there was ever a moment when I honestly didn't want to spend the rest of my life with you. It was just such a shock."

"But you're OK with it now?"

"No. I don't think I ever will be, like you," she said. "But that's OK. I don't have to be. I know what matters now."

"What's that?"

"What matters is that it's you. And it's us. All that other stuff, it can't stop us."

She could feel Chandler smiling under her fingers. "I'm glad to hear you say that."

"Well, it's like you said. We're stuck together."

Chandler lay down then and pulled Monica to him, folding her neatly in his arms, her cheek on his bare chest, her arm resting lazily on his shoulder. He smiled as he felt her fall asleep.

And he thought, perhaps for the first time in his life, that finally everything was going to be just fine.

The end.

Final note: I have to thank Jjaks one more time. His editing and honest critique was beyond fabulous with this story, especially in the last two chapters. At least three or four scenes were his ideas. And chances are if you thought something in this story was funny (and I don't mean because the writing was so bad), the idea came from him. So, Jjaks, thanks for all the help. You asshole. :-)


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